The Wolverine Whisperer
by JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo
Summary: Wolverine's are just like dogs, right? That's what Rogue decides after watching an episode of The Dog Whisperer. Logan had better watch out because this sassy southern spitfire has a few tricks up her sleeves and is determined to get her own way. Romy
1. Speedos, Bras and Cesar Millan

_**Okay, so I was slightly bored and needed a break from AUNIL and I was flicking through the channels and 'The Dog Whisperer' was on. For the first time ever I watched it and then these plot bunnies ensued. Yes, I really need to get a life, but I couldn't pass up this chance to write another fic revolving around a sassy Rogue! **_

_**Rogue's character is in no way based on the person we all see in the films. I've spiced her up a little bit, given her a mouth we can all be proud of, and made her into a slight rebel. So, you have all been warned.**_

_**There is no Rogan in this story; I decided to go down the guardian route. :P**_

_**01.04.10 - As of today; I'm beginning to overhaul this entire story. Chapter 1 is complete, so please be patient with the young woman that has little else to do on a chilly April Fools evening.**_

_**Edit: OK, this is terrible of me, but I need to overhaul this story once again. Today is the 14/07/13. Where have I been? God knows.**_

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**Speedos, Bras and Cesar Milan**

I'm lazing in the rec room in a silly, stupid, but fun attempt at avoiding the dreaded 'H' word: Yes, homework. There's nothing worse than piles and piles of papers, books and all-round mountain of dead trees with your name on. The X-Men kill trees to torture me with homework. Hundreds of thousands of trees die each year because Mr Summer has an ink pen stuck up his behind. I'm sure of it, I know I'm right because my name's Rogue, and I've never been wrong before.

It's the weekend, Saturday to be exact. Jubilee and Kitty have gone to the mall to spend their allowance on shorts skirts and penis-shaped candy canes because they're crazy. Bobby and John are doing whatever seventeen-year-old boys do in their spare time, and me? Well, I'm stuck here because Cyclops says I need to concentrate on my schoolwork. 'School is important, Rogue. Yadda, yadda yadda. You're a bright girl. Blah, blah blah. You have great potential, you just need to concentrate and stop daydreaming in all your classes'.

So, I decided to listen to Mr Summers, stop daydreaming and do my homework, sort of. I'm procrastinating; Yes, I Marie D'Ancanto, aged sixteen-years-and-five-months, have turned into the biggest procrastinator in the world. I'm also proud of it, too. Yes, I'm proud. I might not be out in Westchester buying candy porn, but if being a procrastinator was a job, I'd be chairlady and well paid for the hours I've spent staring at the TV today. The problem is though, once you decide on yawning along the route of ignoring the homework, you have to drown your brain in cable programmes.

My plan was to be lazy, which is how I found myself in the rec room, taking over the TV remote and complaining to myself because there's damn all on. Well, unless you enjoy watching the Weather Channel. Oh, heavy rain and storms forecast for Florida, and there was me thinking it was always sunny there. The beaches look pretty though, just as pretty as they were is Mississippi. Man, I feel homesick, but I have other things to whine about.

Wow, Spring Break is coming up and Jubilee and Kitty are already planning on going. They asked me to join them and I really want to go, but there's something standing in my way. The something has a name he found somewhere and it's Logan. He saved my life, he fed me beef jerky when I was starving and he didn't treat me badly when he found out about my mutation, but he's been driving me crazy lately.

I turn the remote over in my gloved hands and wonder how I've been left alone this long. The doors are wide open, the sunshine is flooding in and hugging every inch of the room, but I'm alone. I can hear birds singing, students playing and splashes from the swimming pool. It's a sweltering day in New York, there's a heat wave at the moment, which makes me smile when I realise Kitty and Jubes' candy sticks are going to melt in their purses. The temperature has been creeping up all week, close to smashing local records and it makes me worry about Bobby. It might not only be candy crunchers that melt in the April heat.

"Hey," a gravelly-voiced Logan grunts, tromping into the room with a raised eyebrow cast my way. He looks at me and I look at him as he drops down onto the couch beside me.

"Hey," I answer softly, still twisting and turning the remote in my covered palms. Pausing, I move one of the cushions to sit on top of my math homework and I go back to fidgeting again.

His eyes follow my hand and he frowns slightly, his mind putting two and two together. "Haven't got anything better to do today?" he says casually, stretching his legs and resting his feet on the coffee table.

"No," I sigh quietly, pretending I haven't seen the questioning look he's giving me_._ Heck, I'm bored to death and I can't help but wonder about Storm's relationship with the Weather Channel. Does she like it? Should she work there? Would her PR team ask her to dye her hair if she became famous for her weather predictions?

"It's a nice day outside, Kid," he replies, ones of his large hands pushing the cushion away from my homework. "Why aren't you playing with those dumb friends of yours?" He picks up my crumpled pieces of paper and starts to scan the half finished sums, scribbled out numbers and a drawing of Mr Summers getting chased by a broom wielding Jean. "I can't smell them, but they must be around here somewhere."

"I don't play, I'm sixteen," I tell him, wrinkling my nose and changing the channel. Gazing away from a re-run of _The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air_, I glance at the snooping mutant sitting beside me. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Logan?"

Logan snorts in amusement and quirks an eyebrow at me. "No," he answers steadily, turning the first piece of paper over and smirking when he spots another sketch of Cyclops. This time I drew him with a potbelly and a pig snout.

"You are, you're trying to get rid of me," I reply suspiciously, taking my homework back and abandoning it on the coffee table.

He scoops up my math papers again and shakes his head. "No, I'm not."

"You're lying!" I respond, punching him lightly on the arm in retaliation. "You know how I feel about lying, Wolverine."

"How do you know I'm lying, huh?" he questions, throwing a cushion at me with a smirk. "You ain't the Professor, darlin', you don't read minds."

"You told me to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. I dress like an extra from _The Addams Family_ and I'm allergic to sunlight," I utter sarcastically, watching him roll his eyes. "Well, I'm right, aren't I? You want to watch something in here and now you're regretting not buying the TV I spotted at Walmart last week. I told you to buy it and you said no."

"Fine," Logan groans in defeat. "You're makin' me miss the game."

No, not hockey, anything but damn hockey! It's one of those sports I really hate with a passion. Alongside football, baseball, golf, badminton, tennis, figure skating... Why don't I just cut to the chase and say that I dislike every sport that has ever been invented since the beginning of time. I'll also take offense to any type of so-called sport that will be invented, played and bet upon in the near and distant future. "Hockey on a Saturday afternoon, Logan. Why?" I whine in disgust, furiously flicking through the channels and settling on MTV.

"Yeah, hockey on a Saturday afternoon," he answers, checking out the second torn piece of paper.

I sigh and turn up the volume on the TV a little when the commercials are finished. "Logan, we'd be considered as friends, right?"

"Yeah darlin'," he replies, arching a bushy eyebrow and watching the paper in front of his nose carefully.

"And you know that I love you, right?" I remark pleasantly, mouthing the words to the warbling sounds of a Michael Jackson track.

He gives me a sharp look. "Kid, you're doing this work, there's no getting out of it."

"I'm not talking about my homework," I complain, wishing he'd listen to me. "I know you agreed to be my guardian now and I feel the need to let you in on a not so little secret. You're old, Logan, I mean reaaallly old. You're really ancient and you're even older than the Professor and he _is_ old. You must be older then the Professor, Scott and Jean's ages combined and that's a shock to me, how do you feel about that? You're a walking, talking, smoking, drinking fossil on denim clad legs."

"Is this goin' somewhere?" Logan replies, with a prominent frown etched on his face.

"Of course it is. Do you think that I'm just rambling on for my own benefit?" I ask with a look of disbelief. "Even though you're older than all of the graves in the nearby cemetery, I'm really fond of you. So, usually I would do anything you asked, but nothing short of a group of hot sweaty guys dressed in see-through Speedos, dropping by and asking me to rub suntan lotion onto their muscular backs is going to make me surrender this remote, capisce?"

Logan sits there in stunned silence for a few minutes digesting my statement. "Kid, you worry me sometimes." He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Now give me the remote."

"No!" I cry furiously, scrambling out of his reach. "Didn't you listen to a thing I said? And anyway, I was here first!"

"Yeah, I did unfortunately and guess what?" he snorts, standing to his feet and cocking his head to the side. "What I say goes."

"Actually, the only thing that we've established so far is that you're older than any other living creature in the world," I point out, stepping behind the couch.

Logan growls. "Marie, I'm not playing here."

When Logan drifts away from the use of that slightly annoying and usually half grunted nickname of mine, it's never a good sign. It usually means one of two things; either I'm pissing him off to the point of serious harm or he's drunk an entire cellar full of the Professor's malt whiskey again.

I decide to weigh my options up in my head and I come to one conclusion. "I'm not either," I sigh lightly, gripping the remote even tighter in my palms.

"Hand the remote over," he orders, taking a threatening step towards me.

"Okay, but on one condition," I inform him with the appearance of a sly grin.

"No blackmailing me, darlin'," Logan snarls, holding out his hand and waiting impatiently. "I'm watching the hockey match."

I gaze down at the remote in my hands and I cheekily wink at Logan. "You really want this remote? Well, come and get it," I say brashly, jamming the remote in my bra.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, his eyes darting away from my newly deformed chest. Folding his muscular arms, he leans against the wall and fixes me with a glare. "What do you want?"

"Oh, it's nothing much really. It's just Jubilee and Kitty have asked me to hit Miami with them for spring break. Isn't that nice of them?" My voice drops to a mumbling, very low whisper half way through my sentence. I'd be surprised if even Logan heard.

Logan steadily blinks at me and furrows his brow. "You wanna run that by me again? I thought for a second there you were asking to go to Miami."

I shuffle my feet and adjust my bulging bra. "Jubilation Lee, that's the girl that likes yellow, and Kitty Pryde, she's the one that can walk through walls. Well, they've politely extended an invitation to me, Rogue, the girl that you met in Laughlin city, that's in Canada and Canada is a different country to America. Rogue, who is also known as 'kid' and occasionally gets called by her first name which she really doesn't like, is standing right in front of you. Rogue and remember that that's me, is asking her loving and generous guardian if she can please except her friend's invitation and go to Miami for spring break. Miami is a place in Florida and Florida is known for its friendly people and low air fares."

"Hell no," he snorts, staring me down. "So put a cork in it, kid."

I gasp, the pictures in my head of me enjoying my spring break starting to fade. "But Logan, that's not fair. I have to go!"

He turns away from me and sits back down. "I said _no_."

"You didn't even hear me out," I complain, ignoring one of the dark looks I've become immune to. "You should at least let me finish. I mean, it's not fair, you're never fair."

"Life ain't fair. So you'd better start gettin' used to it," Logan responds harshly, holding his left hand out. "Now are you gonna give me the remote? I'm missing the game."

"Hell no," I say, doing my best impression of him. "I'm nearly seventeen, you know, and that means I'm not a kid. In fact, I'm at an age where things can easily go one way or the other. How would you feel if tomorrow morning during breakfast I announced that I'm giving up my studies and becoming a pole dancer? Just think of the headlines: the untouchable pole dancing mutant whore. I think I could pull it off, Pyro says I have stripper legs."

Logan scowls darkly. "That won't be happening, and when the hell did Flame Boy see your legs?"

"You need to stay on topic, Logan. And because you won't listen to me, I don't feel like I could trust you with the remote. Maybe I'll give it to you tomorrow, or maybe I'll wait until I become a stripper. Most ladies who do that type of thing get paid in money, but I'll demand remote controls as payment instead."

"Marie," he snarls warningly, with the added thunderous growl.

Our argument is interrupted when Mr Summers appears in the room. He strides in front of the couch with all the grace of a social outcast suffering from a stick lodged permanently up his rear end. "Rogue, it doesn't look like you're spending your Saturday wisely."

I feel slightly surprised and almost queasy as I share my oxygen supply with the likes of Cyclops. I would be a traitor to my own kind if I even dared answer him back, so I pretend to have temporarily lost my hearing.

"Take a hike, Summers," Logan growls, shooting Scott a look that could scare a pack of starving lions away from a fallen deer.

"I really don't want this turning into another fight, Wolverine." Scott replies, attempting to soothe Logan's infamous short temper.

The Canadian shot Cyclops with a dark stare. "Then do me a favour and leave."

"I'm only here to talk to Rogue," he sighed, gesturing to me. "I had to have a word with her earlier because of her poor grades. She's supposed to be catching up with some of her schoolwork."

"If you have a problem with Rogue, you come to me," he says firmly, rising from the couch again. "You know full well I signed those damn guardianship papers for a reason and it wasn't so I could show the people down at City Hall I could spell my own name."

I guess sounds can be deceiving and even if this argument appears to be about me, it's really not. I think they're huffing and puffing over Jean again. I bet you weren't expecting that, were you? Scott and Logan get into a cock fight almost hourly over silly things and it's only because Mr Summers likes red and he knows Wolverine does too.

As they argue, I slide back onto the couch. I remove the remote from the safety of my bra, making sure that Logan is still butting heads with his rival as I switch the channel. "Aw, _The Dog Whisperer_ is on." Settling down to watch the episode as the arguing continues around me, I listen closely to Cesar Milan as he advises a middle-aged couple about their two dogs. One is a quiet, well-behaved Irish Red Setter and the other is a Rottweiler with a bad attitude and aggressive tendencies, who apparently displays a vast amount of dominance in their household.

Yes, a pat on the back, a chocolate chip cookie and a bottle of Molsons will be given to everybody that is on the same wavelength as me. After all, I'm fantastic, I hate homework and I want to go to Miami for spring break.

I glance at the bickering Logan and Scott, and then back at the TV screen where the two dogs are also clawing and snarling at each other. Hmm, I think I've finally found a way to repress the inner boredom that is niggling away at me, that and annoy the hell out of Logan at the same time. If one small Mexican man can become the 'Dog Whisperer_',_ what are the chances of a sassy, rebellious young mutant from Mississippi transforming herself into the Wolverine Whisperer?

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_**And as an afterthought, I felt the need to tell you all that I am really not a fan of men in Speedos. **_


	2. Notebooks, Beer and a Bucket of Water

_**Well, that would be a resounding yes then. Thank God for that! Lol. Thanks to the following people for reviewing; alexmonalisa, Dangrassi, RogueNya, TheLittleRogue, Anei, Bologna121, JimandSteve and ENIREVLOWOLVERINE :) I really appreciate it! and a thanks to those adding this fic to their favourites: Bologna121, JimandSteve and ENIREVLOWOLVERINE.**_

_**Oh, and in response to Anei's review :) 'More potatoes and gravy' That is such a great saying! I take the 'A bit out of character' part as a compliment lol. If I can make Rogue as far removed from her movie character as I can, then I'll be extremely happy! Its not that I can't stand the way she is portrayed. I do like her in the first movie, I can fully understand why she would be timid and shy given the situation she finds herself in. The second movie, yep fine but the third? Don't even get me started. Anna Paquin has what? Maybe ten seconds of screen time?**_

_**Anyway before I go into a two hour rant about The Last Stand, the cure, and the Bobby and Kitty bollocks ;) I had better change the subject. I decided to turn her into a teenager... to a certain extent. Give her some attitude, sass and turn her into a true southern girl. Actually I've never met a southern girl so this is my attempt, probably a pretty lame attempt but there you go. But back on topic. Rogue has found a home, she feels safe, she has Logan, friends. So why not allow her to come out of her shell? And Logan? um, well I decided he would show a softer side around Marie. Scott you ask? I can't say I actually care for the character. I find him an annoyance more than anything.**_

_**Jesus, I'm rambling aren't I? The point that I'm badly trying to make is that this fic would be considered an AU and its set after the first movie, lets just pretend that Logan didn't bugger off at the end ;)**_

_**I'm just hoping I don't offend you with my ramblings because I'm always pleased to receive reviews and advice :)**_

**_As of 03.04.10 (I'm English and that's the way we write the date. Properly. LOL) this chapter has been re-written in parts. Please enjoy!_**

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**Notebooks, Beer and A Big Old Bucket Of Water**

I have known Logan for six months, thirteen days, eight hours and fifty nine minutes. That is not a long time considering how he has chosen to carve a Wolverine sized hole in my life. He saved me from the clutches of the Brotherhood and certain death and is now my legal guardian. But please don't hold that against me. When the Professor first announced that my parents were more than happy to yield their parental rights, I wasn't exactly pleased. I was absolutely ecstatic, thrilled and almost delirious with excitement and relief.

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**_Six months ago: Shortly after my near death experience on the statue of liberty (And who says that I don't get to see the sights?)_**

I was free, finally free. I would never have to see my parents again. No, I'm not being overly harsh; they kicked me out the only home I had ever known and told me not to come back.

I was so overjoyed that I moon walked across the Professor's office, much to amusement of Storm and the surprise of Cyclops. Who according to Jean is an avid Micheal Jackson fan. From what I have heard on the grape vine, he wears one sparkly, glittery glove to bed when he and his wife are in the mood to spend some quality time together. That is one fact that I could have died without ever discovering. Please can someone pass me a bottle of industrial strength brain bleach? The pictures, oh the hideous pictures.

So, there I was was moon walking, whooping and cheering when the Professor interrupted my celebration with a startling piece of information; 'You're sixteen, Rogue' he said. My smile ran for cover and my knees almost buckled beneath me. I, of course being of sound mind and high intelligence already knew my own age and I also understood where this conversation was headed.

I explained to the Professor that I was a very well adjusted and responsible young lady. I didn't need someone to look after me and wipe my ass. Possibly the wrong choice of words on my part because he was then adamant that I needed a guardian. One that could contend with 'My fiery nature' but an individual who also 'Generally cared for me.'

I had drawn a blank. Who was this magical person that the Professor had spoken of? Did they even exist? Or was this all a figment of Charles Xavier's imagination?

Ororo, Jean and Scott were also pondering the same question; 'Who was this saint that the Professor spoke of so highly?' and then the door opened and there stood Logan leaning against the door frame, hands dug deep in his pockets and a golden halo suspended over his dark unruly hair.

Okay, so I'm joking about the halo but there he was coming to my rescue again and after a rather short conversation with the Professor (Logan doesn't like long winded conversations) it was decided.

Well, Logan decided and I agreed that he would be the best choice for my guardian. I think he was more than determined for this to happen his way after he heard Scott profess an interest in taking me under his wing.

That comment of course caused a foul mouthed, expletive filled argument between Scott and Logan and Jean had to separate the two using her telekinetic power before they came to blows. But my fate was already sealed and I couldn't have been more satisfied. Having Logan as my guardian was going to be cool? Right?

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_**The present day...**_

Every budding Wolverine Whisperer knows that the first step is to evaluate the situation. To do this, I have to watch his every move, jot down notes and pin point the exact problems that I need to correct.

Which is why I have dragged a rather unwilling Pyro with me to the kitchen to help me with my first test. I desperately need to know if Wolverine is obsessed over any object and how he will react if anyone touches said object.

"Are you sure he won't kill me?" John asks, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"No, that's just an old wives tale. Wolverines rarely kill on the first offense." I reply, patting him reassuringly on the back. "Now get to it."

"Okay." He gulps nervously, stepping carefully to the refrigerator and opening the door.

I hop onto the counter and press pen to paper. Three, two, one... Show time. Logan marches into the kitchen in search of his daily afternoon fix of Canadian beer.

Eyes wide, John stands there like a newly orphaned Bambi caught in the headlights of a monster truck. Except that he has a bottle of fine beer that doesn't belong to him in his hand and compared to the cuteness of a young deer, he would be considered ugly.

"What do you think you're doin', boy?" Logan growls menacingly, stopping in his tracks when he notices the familiar looking bottle in Pyro's hand.

"Nothing." He squeaks as Wolverines claws slide out with a terrifying _Snikt._

"That's my beer."

"Yes it is, sir." Oh, John, I cringe inwardly at his newly developed cowardliness. Stand your ground. I've never witnessed such an act from the usually cocky and confident young mutant.

"Hand it over." Logan demands, sheathing his claws and holding out his palm. Without a seconds thought, Pyro delivers the icy cold alcoholic beverage to its rightful owner and slowly backs away to the door. "I catch you near my beer again and I'll gut you."

Taking Logan's threat seriously, John nods his head and scrambles out of the kitchen in a genuine fear for his own life. Scribbling down my new found findings, I scratch my head and pause to contemplate my discovery. "Interesting, very interesting." I mutter quietly to myself.

"What's interestin'?" Logan asks me, arching a scrutinizingly shaggy eyebrow.

"Nothing much. Just homework and you know how much I love doing my homework."

"You're lyin'." He sighs, sniffing the air and honing in on my scent. How could I forget? Apart from the glaringly obvious fact that Logan can smell a lie, he also has an extreme hatred for those that dare lie to his face and there is a very short list of those that are brave enough to do so. Actually, I'm the only person that is idiotic enough to have my name on that list.

"I'm not. I'm doing a project." I smile innocently, fluttering my eyelashes and doodling on the side of the page. "A very important project that involves Pyro."

That answer doesn't seem to appease his bristling anger. "Keep away from flame boy. That kid is bad news." He grunts sharply, cracking open his bottle and gulping down the amber liquid.

"As a matter of fact he's not bad news." I scoff, dismissing his overprotectiveness with a wave of my gloved hand. "He said that I had stripper legs and anyone that compliments me like _that _can't be bad news." Looking down at my shapely legs wrapped tightly in a opaque variety of violet coloured pantyhose, I wrinkle my nose in self disgust. "Personally, I can't see what there is to compliment. I'm not one of those girls that has legs all the way to her arm pits and I've seen those women in your Playboy magazines. I wish I had the type of body that men would happily masturbate over."

Slightly taken aback at my thoughts about my own image and my knowledge of his hidden stash of dirty magazines, Logan gawks at me in surprise. "Just keep away from that perverted little punk." He orders, quickly recovering from his shock after draining the remainder of his beer. "And I confiscated those magazines."

"Whatever you say, Logan." I reply dryly.

"Hey, I mean it."

Hopping off of the counter, I tuck my notebook safely under the crook of my arm and fix him with a blank, unreadable gaze. "Don't worry about it. I know you confiscated those magazines off Bobby. I should know, I did buy them for him for his birthday." Notebook and pens firmly in my possession, I hightail it out of the kitchen leaving a scowling Logan to finish off yet another beer.

The first test complete and I've found out the following; Wolverine has invested a great deal of his time at the mansion installing fear into any party that wishes to use the refrigerator. If they have the unfortunate luck to even brush a hand against his much loved liquor, he intimidates them with the use of claws, growling and a flash of his canines. He is also very cagey about the collection of printed pornographic pictures of bitches (Female dogs) that he has hidden under his mattress. Yes, Wolverine definitely has an issue with sharing. He also suffers from an acute case of Playboy preoccupation. That, and a pure undeniable case of dominance.

* * *

Now, the time has come to step into Wolverine's territory and observe how he reacts to the intrusion. This can be a very tricky and damn right dangerous part to my investigation. So this needs to planned out and executed in the most organised of fashions. I wait outside his bedroom door in the moonlit hall, well after midnight, standing around like the BAMF that I'm striving to become. In the past six months I have well and truly crawled out of my shell, even growing a pair of pointed horns and a tail just for kicks.

Minutes later and I'm tempted to turn around and go back to bed, but I hear him begin to thrash around in the fit of a nightmare. Creeping into his room before my new found confidence dives for cover and leaves me with alone with a mouth that I can't control, I shut the door behind me and tip toe over to his sleeping form.

Last time I attempted to wake him, I received a nasty new set of holes in my body and that hurt. So, excuse me if I wish to avoid such an unpleasant scene this time. Instead, I've decided that for safety reasons and safety reasons only (I'm not gaining any gratification from this, honest) I needed to fill a plastic bucket full of freezing cold water to throw over him. And look what I just so happen to be carrying. A big, old bucket full of freezing cold water. What are the chances of that? Huh?

Holding the extremely heavy bucket high over the mumbling Logan, I take a deep calming breath and pore the entire contents over him. Luckily I remember to leap back to a safe (Although, its probably not as safe as I first thought) distance as his claws shoot out. He sits up hastily in a blinking and bewildered daze, staring straight ahead of him, the water soaking into his sheets.

"Logan?" I whisper meekly, stepping closer to the bed. "I really hope I haven't damaged any of your dirty magazines. I probably should have thought about them before I... "

"What the hell are you doin'?" He snarls, interrupting me and my brave mocking of his perverted pleasures. Water trickles down his forehead as his eyes bore into the bucket that I'm still clutching in my hands.

"Well, you were having a nightmare." I think that it's safe to say that I've pissed him off big time. I wonder if it's because I keep mentioning those magazines? "So I woke you up." I answer, gesturing to the bucket. "And you're welcome."

"What did I tell you the last time you came in here?"

"That you were so, so, so very sorry that you almost killed me."

"And?" He growls, kicking the sodden sheets off of his body and rolling out of the bed.

I watch him reaching for a towel and perch myself on the end of his bed. "Is that a trick question?" I ask as he begins to dry himself off.

"Marie."

"Not to come in here under any circumstances when you were asleep or having a nightmare." I huff in disinterest, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes.

"Then why the hell are you here?" Yes, I have_ really_ pissed him off. Congratulations Rogue on the fine display of provoking an extremely negative reaction out of Wolverine. Why didn't I just poke him with a very large stick from a safe distance? Like China? Surely that would have been easier and less abusive on my delicate ears.

"Stop yelling at me, you're going to wake the entire mansion up."

"Jesus Christ, Kid!" Logan bellows, throwing the damp towel onto the floor and marching towards me. "Why do you have to be so Goddamn difficult?"

"I'm at a certain age and I need to push the boundaries. Actually, I'm at an age where I can buy Playboy magazines from a store without arousing suspicion and that means that I'm responsible enough to go Miami." Shit, where did that come from? I'd imagine this is not the right time to ask Logan for his permission yet again.

Glancing down at me with a withering glare, he leans closer and narrows his eyes. "Hell. No."

"You know what, Logan? If you keep saying that, its going to become your catchphrase. Little kids are going to follow you around chanting 'hell no.' Men and women alike will whisper to each other as you pass them by 'There goes Mister hell no' And when you and the X-men rush off in the X-Jet for a little mission, it's going to be all over the news. Is it a plane? Is it a bird? No, its the hell no guy and his band of merry mutants." I announce with a hint of heavy sarcasm, thoroughly amused at the thought of Logan appearing on the six o'clock news dressed in his leather uniform.

"You finished?" Logan demands gruffly, grabbing hold of my wrist and tugging me to my feet.

"I think so. I can't think of any more jokes."

"Good. Now get your butt back to bed." He commands, shoving me gently in the direction of the door. "One eyes gonna be ridin' my ass again if you miss class."

Stopping a few footsteps short of the bedroom door, I dissolve into hysterics at the unfortunate picture that appears in my mind. "Riding your ass?" I giggle. "As in Cyclops riding the king of the cage Wolverine's ass? How long have you been suffering from such horrific fantasies?"

Logan finishes ripping the wet sheets off of his bed and glowers at me. Yikes, I know that look and nothing good can come of it. "Okay. I'm going, I'm going." I respond stony faced and holding my hands up in defeat. "But, about Miami...?" Yet again I'm met with a look that would make a grown man cry out for his own mother. "Have you checked that your magazines are still in one piece?"

"Bed." He growls, practically foaming at the mouth in anger.

"Fine. There's no need to get your panties in a twist. I'll just leave you to get back to your erotic thoughts involving a certain..." I expertly dodge a pillow that is thrown in my direction and open the door. "Scott..."

"Marie!"

"Summers." I finish smugly, quickly closing the door and rushing away to the safety of my own room.

The second test is now complete and I have found out the following: Wolverine doesn't like other mutants to invade his territory while he's sleeping. He also takes high offense to being teased and has a growing resentment towards the other alpha male of the pack. As well as disliking the city of Miami, he has a more severe case of dominance then I first thought. I think that becoming the pack leader is going to be a struggle but the Wolverine Whisperer is nothing but resilient.

* * *

**Okay. I'm really enjoying writing this fic. It's probably because it's such a ridiculous concept. And I'm really forcing Logan to step up to the plate and act like a guardian.**

**And yes, I'm truly nuts, RogueNya. LMAO**

**As usual, please let me know what you guys are thinking :) I'm just pleased that it's finally raining here. Whoo hoo, no more heat wave. I love a good storm!**

**If you don't all know what BAMF means then I'll let you in on a widely known secret ;) Bad ass mother... You get the idea right?**


	3. Thunder, Fixation and Tears

**_As usual a huge thanks to those reviewing, reading and adding this fic to their favourites :)_**

**_There's some humour in this chapter and it has a pretty cute ending!_**

**_04.04.10: I've waved a magic wand and this has now officially been heavily edited. New scenes have also been written and added. I hope that you're all having a great Easter and if there's any uneaten chocolate lying around your house then please send it my way ;)_**

* * *

**Thunder, Fixation and Tears**

My tedious, mind numbingly boring classes are finished for today, thankfully. At one point I was even on the brink of becoming the first ever recorded case of _death by boredom_, but fortunately that feeling had slowly passed by the time the lunch bell rang. I'd come to the conclusion after lunch that everyone had experienced that thought while being taught by the anally retentive Cyclops. Anyway, that's enough talk about Scott 'Anally retentive' Summers. Thinking about Captain cookie cutter is going to give me an upset stomach and I don't have time for repeated trips to the restroom today. Time is of the essence and funnily enough, it's time for the third test.

The main goals that I need to accomplish this evening are as follows:

1. To determine whether Wolverine is fixated on any objects or persons.

2. Understand the logic behind the fixation.

3. Learn how to counteract such a behaviour.

4. Gain permission to attend spring break in Miami.

I foresee no problem in completing three of these objectives, but I may need to spend some more time devising a plan of action for the fourth target. Wolverine has become immune to my pleading, begging, pouting and my attempts of bribery have earned me a ticking off. He apparently doesn't want anymore editions of Playboy. I think that it's only because the newest issue didn't feature any topless red headed models. I desperately need to find the weak spot in his adamantium coat of armor and pounce on it. There are two weeks left until it's officially spring break and I'm determined to be sitting beside Jubilee in her car when it flies down the freeway in search of sun, sea and sand.

* * *

A formal dinner; What a perfect opportunity to observe how Wolverine interacts with the rest of the pack. I deliberately seat myself opposite Logan with my notebook and pen clutched in my hands at the ready. We both sit in silence, waiting for the rest of the students and X-Men to arrive.

"Any news, Chica?" Jubilee asks in what she assumes is a hushed tone. I'd describe it more as bordering on to the brink of a loud outcry. Sitting beside me in a vacant chair, she fiddles with the empty china plate and silver cutlery that are sitting patiently in front of her for the food and festivities to start.

"Will you keep it down." I grumble, eyeing her with a growing resentment. "I don't think the people in the next state heard you!"

"So? Are you coming or not?"

"Not, if you keep talking so loudly because I'll be dead."

Chewing her gum, she turns away from her plate and looks me in the eyes."Your bag is already packed and hidden under Kitty's bed." She whispers, glancing at Logan out of the corner of her eye. "If _he _wants to be a mega grouch, then let _him_ get on with it."

I smile gratefully at Jubes and wonder what I ever did to deserve such accommodating friends. "But your ass isn't on the line." I remind her as I tuck my wayward hair behind my ears. "He'll kill me if I just leave and I'm not ready to die just yet. I haven't even got past first base without someone falling into a coma."

* * *

After fifty five minutes of sheer boredom, long winded speeches about the Professor from an inebriated Scott and the idle chatter almost driving me to insanity, something catches my eye.

Fixation alert... Fixation alert... Fixation alert... Fixation alert

Wolverine has been watching Jean Grey closely for three minutes and twenty five seconds now. I'm not entirely sure if he is seeing her as prey or just the means to an end. I think he might just wants to get his 'end' away with her but a prey drive is also highly possible. His hand/eye co-ordination skills are suffering due to the intensity of his gaze. For someone with a mutation such as his, he makes a very poor dinner guest. Logan has lived for over one hundred years and yet, he can't simply eat, drink and watch Jean without knocking over his cherished bottle of beer.

Looking around the table I watch Jean fawning over a tipsy Scott, the Professor prodding the meatloaf on his plate with a fork and John playing with his lighter. Storm is gracefully sipping from her glass of wine, Kitty is phasing the vegetables from her plate through the table and Bobby is discreetly trying to capture my attention. It would have been less annoying on my part if he had just called my name because he's flicking clumps of ice at me.

While Logan attempts to drown his obsession with Jean by using large quantities of beer, I propel a slice of carrot at Bobby's head. He jumps in shock and I wiggle my eyebrows while Jubilee stifles a giggle. "What?" I mouth quietly when the carrot bounces off of his forehead and lands on the table.

Iceman stares at the carrot and then gazes at the grown ups. Realizing that they're all busy with their own little dramas, he rests his hand on the table and freezes my weapon of choice. As Cyclops takes it upon his manly shoulders to rise from his chair and make yet another speech, Bobby hurls the carrot at me. Instead of hitting its intended target, it hits Jubilee squarely on the nose and she shrieks in alarm. Silence fills the room and too many pairs of eyes stare openly at us. But Jubilee being none other then a girl with a love for vengeance points openly at Bobby, a small firework whizzes across the table and knocks him clean off his chair.

Just as Cyclops clears his throat and is about to launch into lecture mode, I hastily decide to hold yet another investigation into Wolverine's worrying behaviour. "No, Robert Drake!" I announce in mock horror, jumping to my feet and pointing a bony finger at him. "Just because I can't buy you anymore Playboy magazines, that doesn't mean that you can ask to see me naked."

There are a number of gasps and giggles from the mutants sitting around the table. Storm, Jean, Cyclops and Kitty gasp in horror and Jubilee and Pyro laugh at the horrified looking Bobby still lying on the floor. The Professor only sits pensively, quiet and deep in thought with his hands clasped together. Logan on the other hand spits out his beer and leaps to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. Scott drunkenly attempts to hold him back as he launches himself at a deeply worried Iceman.

Sharing a high five, myself and Jubilee sit back down. "Are you coming to Miami or not?" She questions, nudging me in the side to gain my full attention.

"I don't know." I answer truthfully, looking away from the altercation and leaning back in my chair. "But if I do die before I get to go to Miami, remember that I want to be buried at sea. Preferably off of south beach. Just make sure that I'm dressed in a sexy bikini and you play that Will Smith song _Welcome to Miami."_

Wolverine finally gets loose when Scott trips over his own feet and hauls Bobby off of the floor by the front of his shirt. "Logan, stop this at once!" The Professors voice booms angrily."Rogue wasn't telling the truth."

For the second time tonight all eyes turn in my direction and Jubilee's shoulders are shaking with laughter. Logan releases his grip on an ashen faced Bobby and snaps his gaze to me. Scott meanwhile struggles to stand to his feet and Storm pours herself another glass of white wine.

I'm just glad that the dinner is finally over and the third test is complete. Today was difficult but I was able to find out the following: Wolverine is fixated on the red headed Jean Grey. I need to investigate further to truly understand the reasonings behind this. I am unsure whether this is a true fixation or if he is trying to exert his dominance as willing leader of the pack by exhibiting a desire to seduce his rivals female. I have also detected the reluctance on Wolverine's part to converse with the pack at regular intervals, he chooses to blatantly ignore the trivial conversations and focuses solely on his bottle of beer.

He readily attacked a younger male in the pack without being provoked. He also seems to be overprotective of his owner and that is a major issue that needs to be addressed.

Having now fully realized that there are two types of fixation, I'm ninety nine percent sure that I'm dealing with the 'glazed eyes fixation'. This means that no matter what happens around Wolverine it will not break his obsession with Jean. Even under these strenuous circumstances he still throws the odd casual glance in Jean's direction.

So, I'm now dealing with both the 'glazed eyes fixation' and the 'oral fixation.' Wolverine is also exhibiting very worrying signs of an apparent 'oral fixation' towards both his cigars and beer. But the most troubling news is that he's currently walking towards his owner and that fills her with slight dread.

* * *

Waking in a cold sweat, I bury my head under the covers and take a deep breath. I calmly try to curb the rising panic while my brain is left reeling with intentionally forgotten memories. I tiredly sit up and exhale deeply praying that I'll be overcome with sleep again. I like to sleep, it's probably the only thing that I'm good at doing these days. Actually that's not strictly true, I'm great at answering back, buying Playboy magazines and making fun of Cyclops. I can also moonwalk, kill anyone I despise with just one lingering touch and I'm a Wolverine Whisperer in the making.

I feel emotionally drained and absolutely exhausted. Who knew that an active imagination could cause such havoc with my sleep? Although me being awake right now probably has more to do with having a nightmare, then any thoughts of a whispering kind. Glancing around the room, my eyes are drawn to the shadows creeping up the magnolia painted walls and the sounds of the rain lashing against the window cause me to shiver. Jubilee and Kitty are both sound asleep, complimenting each other with an array of modest snores and dreams of hot guys on Miami beach.

Deciding not to wake up my two friends, so I can discuss the finer points of my nightmare, I slowly lie back down and turn my attention to the thoughts of sleep. Sadly for my white and pink polka dot panties, a flash of lightening illuminates the room and I swear that I've just soiled myself. The lightening is pursued instantaneously by a roar of thunder that scares me half to death.

Its only a storm I tell myself and it doesn't have any bearing on what happened last time. Its only a storm, Rogue, it can't hurt you. How can I go to Miami if I shit myself every time it rains a little? The storms are legendary there, they even have hurricanes! I'd probably have a heart attack if a hurricane tore through my room right this second.

Less than a minute and a half later I leap out of bed as another flash of lightening shatters my resolve. Quickly dressing into more suitable clothing; A long sleeved burgundy top, black sweat pants, gloves and a fluffy pair of pink and white poker dot socks (Yes, I have a pair of socks that match my underwear. Do you have a problem with that?) finish off my outfit and I rush out of the room in search of my feral, growly protector.

Sneaking stealthily down the many hallways on the second floor of the mansion, just like I was taught to do in combat class, I cast my mind back to seven months previously. That was during the whole my-parents-hate-me-so-I'm-going-to-run-away-and-teach-them-a-lesson part of my life, lets just say that my plan backfired on me a little. There I was alone on the open road with only my duffel bag as company, hitchhiking to Canada and dreaming of a better life.

I was probably too trusting, I wasn't remotely street smart and I was an idiot. I had only five dollars to my name, I was becoming desperate and that desperation was my downfall. Its easier to say that I would have done everything differently now with hindsight. But at the time I was shy, uncomfortable in my own skin and I couldn't see into the future obviously or I would have hitchhiked straight to Hollywood and made a killing out of psychic readings. A man offered to give me a ride and I mistook his friendliness for concern. He was being friendly, of course I didn't know his true intentions until it was almost to late.

Thirty minutes in he grew quieter and looked uneasy, throwing curious looks my way. Five minutes after that, he skillfully pulled over onto an abandoned dirt track and demanded paying. I nervously explained that I had no money and he said that there were other ways a girl like me could remedy the situation. As a colossal storm brewed over our heads, much like tonight, the overweight, greasy haired asshole threw himself on top of me. Luckily for me my adrenalin kicked in, I fought like a wild cat and then I remembered that I had my powers. I ripped off my glove with my teeth, touched his face and I drained his ass dry. That is the end of my story children.

That was the only time that I've been thankful for my mutation. I left the guy lying there in a twitching heap and ran into the torrent of wind, rain, thunder and lightening. Rogue was born, christened and evolved into a force that could be reckoned with that night. I never told anyone about my ordeal; I was scared that I was to blame. I've always had a niggling suspicion that the Professor knows about it though, after he looked into my memories, he smiled sadly at me. Every month he asks to speak to me after class and suggests that I visit a counsellor. Do I look like I need to see a counsellor? I'm not mad, I'm the Wolverine Whisperer!

Unwelcome tears prick my eyelids as that awful night replays in my head like a box office flop. I feel like throwing popcorn at the screen, jeering at the terrible actors and demanding my money back. Abruptly turning the corner, I almost walk into a somewhat startled Cyclops who appears to have finally sobered up.

Dammit, and I thought this night couldn't get any worse.

"Rogue, curfew was two hours ago. Do I need to remind you that you're not supposed to leave your room?" He scolds bitterly, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

Blinking away the tears, I clear my throat and scowl. "You're finally sober then?" I say, gently ridiculing his earlier actions.

"I wasn't drunk." Scott grumbles, scowling back and sighing. "I was only unwinding after a hectic week. I was also under the impression that Logan had specifically asked you to stay in your room for tonight."

I begin to shake slightly as the storm rumbles closer. "I thought you just said that I had to stay in my room because there's a curfew? What's Logan got to do with this? Are you sure you're sober?"

"I wasn't even drunk to begin with. Maybe I should go and talk to the Professor? Tonight's actions have highlighted that yet again, Logan isn't guardian material."

"At least Logan can handle his alcohol."

Refusing to listen to anymore complaints and lectures tumbling out of Scott's dry, chapped lips (Somebody give the man some vaseline) I turn on my heels and march away from Mr. Anally retentive. My tears fall freely and I begin to sprint towards the stairs. Even if I fight against Logan daily, tease him about his Playboy magazines and grumble about his overprotectiveness, I don't want to lose him. He doesn't have any table manners, has the inability to fully understand the greatness of Miami and won't let me falsely accuse people of asking to see me naked. But, he hates Scott too and that my friends, is a personality trait that no one should be without.

* * *

I hover nervously in the doorway of the rec room attempting to compose myself, before I spontaneously combust or fall to me knees in a quivering wreck. This really is beyond stupid. Why am I so afraid? I live with a beautifully elegant mutant that can conjure up a storm in a heartbeat, she's even called Storm! I don't cry when I'm watching her fighting in the Danger Room. I even laughed when she knocked Logan off his feet with a gust of wind. Oh, and she almost fried John with a lightening bolt once when she caught him searching through her dirty laundry.

"You should be asleep, Kid." Logan grunts, his gaze never leaving the TV.

Treading softly into the room, I stand beside the leather couch, tugging a loose thread on my glove. "I know." I reply, glancing at the TV when a new episode of _Jerry Springer_ begins.

"You've been cryin'." He states calmly, his interest now solely on my face and not on the Springer audience chanting _Steve!_

"I'm fine."

Just as those words leave my lips, a large crash of thunder sends me into an utter frenzy and I dive into the safety of Logan's lap, much to his surprise and mine. "What's wrong?" Logan asks, arching an eyebrow in concern as I snuggle deeper into the warmth of his body heat.

"I said it's nothing." I mutter refusing to maintain eye contact and burying my face into his shirt. Inhaling the aroma of cigar smoke, it slowly calms my nerves and I start to relax. I hear him sigh and I turn to the television screen when the first guest walks out. It's a woman in her early twenties, with jet black hair and a nose ring. The title 'My Lesbian Lover Had sex With A Mutant And Loved It' appears at the bottom of the screen.

"Talk to me, Marie."

Listening to the woman complaining about her lovers obsession with a mutant named Raven, I rest my head on Logan's chest and sigh. "You shouted at me earlier." I tell him, finding the textured ceiling extremely interesting all of a sudden.

"That ain't the first time I've ever shouted at you." He replies giving me a knowing look. "And I doubt it's gonna be the last. So how about you drop the act and tell me what's really goin' on."

Jerry Springer meanwhile asks a number of lewd questions, receives a number of lewd answers in return and introduces the call girl/expensive hooker/mutant onto the stage. "I was only messing around with Bobby earlier. I didn't expect you to go all John Wayne on his ass."

"Really?" Logan snorts, rolling his eyes at either my explanation or the fact that Raven the expensive hooker is stripping to her underwear.

"Why are you watching Jerry Springer? Did you run out of Kleenex tissues again or did I damage your magazines to the point of no return?"

"Are you usually _this_ straight talkin'?"

"You don't have to be shy about it. Everyone does it at some point in their life."

"Kid, I'm tellin' you nicely to drop the subject." He growls, lifting me off of his lap and placing me gently on the couch beside him. "So drop it."

"Most parents don't talk openly to their kids about their bedroom habits." I scoff, lying down and resting my feet on his thighs as I try to embarrass him. "For some reason I thought you would be different."

"Yeah, well I'm not. So quit changin' the subject or take your smart ass back to bed."

The storm now rages above the mansion and I hug the cushion tightly to me. "Fine. What do you want to talk about then?"

Staring at the now almost naked women on the Springer stage, exchanging insults and threats, his eyes flicker to me. "You were cryin' and I wanna know why."

"Do you really have to know about every aspect of my life?"

"Yeah I do, so spill."

Sighing wearily, I sit up straight and raise an eyebrow at the now bra-less pair of rivals squaring up to each other. I can't see their bare breasts though, the television company have taken it upon themselves to shrewdly place a blur across the offending areas. I wonder why people throw their morals out of the window just for fifteen minutes of fame? Steve the bald headed security guard pulls them apart before the shit really hits the fan, much to my disappointment.

"I'm... Well I think that I've fallen in love with Scott." I announce mockingly, grinning at the dark look that descends on my guardian's face. "I've been following him for weeks now. Stalking him everyday and watching him work out in the Danger Room. Every time that I see his bare chest I get this funny feeling in my..."

"Go to bed, Marie." A brilliant flash of lightening punctuates his order and I quickly scoot closer to his side.

I shake my head and a shiver creeps down my spine. "I can't." I whimper pitifully. "I'm watching Jerry Springer."

Recognizing the flicker of fear in my eyes, he puts two and two together and brushes a calloused hand through my hair. He hugs me closer to him not saying a word and letting me cower from the storm in his embrace. That's why I love Logan's comfort; He only has to hold me and the irrational fears disappear.

The sight of my bottom lip quivering melts his gruff exterior and he lifts me back into his lap. "Come here." He says, wrapping an arm around me and settling down to watch the remainder of the show. "You're shiverin'."

"I hear Miami's warm this time of year." I respond brazenly, not missing the chance to mention Spring Break.

"You're not gonna give up are you?" He's right, I've often been told that I don't know when to give up.

"No." I mumble tiredly, catching a yawn before it escapes my lips.

"The answers still no." Logan replies candidly. "I'm only lookin' out for you, Kid."

The yawn I was fighting to suppress finally escapes my clutches and I grumble half heartedly at Wolverine. I'm just too dog tired to fight anymore tonight. Get it? Dog tired? Well I thought that it was rather witty. "I know." I whisper softly. "You would make a great dad, Logan. You should think about finding a girl and having kids of your own."

"I've already got a kid of my own."

My eyes drift closed as my head rests sluggishly on his chest and I fall into a dreamless sleep with the sound of Logan's heart beat for reassurance. For tonight and tonight only, I'll hang up my Wolverine Whisperer cap. But tomorrow morning, when I wake up in a pleasant mood with a skip in my step and a rebellious song playing in my heart, I'll continue with my campaign and in two weeks time I'll be on my way to Miami.

* * *

And that was my attempt at redeeming Logan's character. After reading the last chapter again I decided that he was acting like a total arse and I wanted to hit him, so I added a rather sickly sweet ending ;) well, I thought it was cute anyway and who wouldn't want to sit on Logan's lap? LOL

**And I hereby allow you all to boo and hiss at Scott. It'll will be just like a panto! ;) As usual please review and let me know your thoughts :)**

**Oh and before I forget alexmonalisa; You should have drunk plenty of water last night and stayed in bed and slept through the hangover. Trust me I should know ;)**

**Bologna121 - Stop mentioning that love letter I PMSL every time I read it!**

**grumpypirate - I have to say that it amuses me greatly when I think of the possibility of cyclops being an MJ fan, not sure why though Lol**

**JimandSteve - Why thank you**

**wolverette - Yet again, thanks. And who wouldn't want to throw a bucket of water over him? I probably would have thrown the entire bucket at him!**

**RogueNya - I am determined to get that girl to Miami ;)**

**gathered zebras- I've never read an X-men comic in my life :( how sad is that? Lol**

**Soon2BeMe - cough... update... cough**

**And Anei, Once again, Bloody hell! The last time I saw the last stand was at the cinema when it first came out! I nearly died of embarrassment and was so ashamed to be British when the juggernaut appeared on screen. What were they thinking? I've decided that southern girls should be known as 'Sassy' . I have absolutely no idea where I heard that but its stuck in my head and its there to stay. Oh and about the southern slang: My favourites are 'Piddlin' 'Cattywampus' and 'Darn tootin' LMFAO**


	4. Papers, Kicks and Taps

**_A great big thank you to all those that have reviewed, added this fic to their alerts, favourites and those lurkers that keep on returning for more._**

_**Thanks to my reviewers:**_ **_bologna121, wolverette, it'scurtainsforyou, RogueNya (Jean you say?), alexmonalisa (don't beat yourself up, your stories are great), soon2Bme (Lets just pretend that Miami is storm free ;) I've been to Orlando 3times and those storms were ridiculous. I haven't worn a white top since LOL!) grumpypirate (Only if he did the crotch grab) and ENIREVLOWOLVERINE._**

**_Now for this chapter its back to the humour. Well, it can only be deemed funny if you guys find it amusing, so as usual let me know! :)_**

**04.04.10: Another chapter is done and dusted.**

* * *

**Papers, Kicks and Taps**

I have to become the pack leader, but where do I start? I've finished my analysis and have pin pointed three of Wolverine's main problems that I have to nip in the bud. Yes, only three. I'm not a miracle worker and there is no magic wand for we to wave. I have no fairy Godmother to help me find my way either. But I have an abundance of energy, brains and the reassurance of knowing that Wolverine will never kill me spurring me on. That and the thought of Miami.

The dominance and aggression has to be the main priority because he's currently a danger to the rest of the pack, and those around him. Secondly his fixation on Jean, beer and his cigars needs to be rectified as soon as possible. Wolverine is on a slippery slope to self destruction and a lifetime obsession with red heads. Lastly, his dislike of the other alpha male of the pack, Cyclops. I don't like Scott Summers and no, it's not only because Logan hates him too. I think he's a snot nosed, pansy assed bastard with an unnatural and annoying need to object to just about anything. Yes, Logan is as strict as hell but I wouldn't swap him for the world. Although, I could be persuaded into loaning him to you in return for an all expenses paid trip to Miami. Are there any takers?

With the observation period over for the moment and an awful lot of time spent watching Cesar Milan on You Tube. It has come to my attention that's its time to put my plan into action. Hello, I'm the Wolverine Whisperer and you will bow down before me.

* * *

"What's going on?" I ask Jubilee, fighting my way through the crowds which is easier said then done.

"Wolvie caught Bobby and John sneaking into his room, Chica. He's going nuts." She answers, her eyes burning bright with excitement.

Um, I do believe this is all my fault. I asked... Well, I actually begged and then bribed Ice man and Pyro to steal Logan's cigars out of his room. Cesar Milan said that you had to claim back the objects that your dog... I mean Wolverine guards or has an obsession with. And those boys are the best at what they do and what they do is sneaky, sometimes illegal but they have damn good fun doing it. Unless they're caught in the act by a rabid Wolverine with a distinct case of dominance.

I push my way to the entrance of Logan's room, where I'm able to peep through the crack in the door and witness two terrified seventeen year olds shaking in their boots. Those guys are never normally scared, but there is something about Logan that causes them to piss their panties in fear every time he so much as looks their way. I personally don't understand what is remotely scary about a feral, short tempered mutant with indestructible metal claws. He's a little rough around the edges but he's a sweetheart. In actual fact he's my gruff, hairy teddy bear.

Wolverine paces the confines of his room barking threats at the two delinquents and as soon as I hear the infamous _Snikt,_ I barge in unannounced. Shouting "STOP!" at the top of my lungs, I skid to a halt and bite my lower lip nervously. I don't want to see Bobby and John shredded. Its a little too macabre for my liking and it just wouldn't sit right with my conscience. Yes, I do have a set of morals that I fight to uphold. One of them being not to allow Logan to murder my friends in cold blood.

All three mutants turn to face me, one with a frown and the other two with relief evident in their eyes. "Hey, Logan. I was just looking for those two." I announce, nodding at Beavis and Butthead. "We have plans, very important plans. Plans that can't be broken under any circumstances." Is this sounding just as pathetic as it does in my head? "We're going shopping. I finally persuaded Bobby to put down the Playboy magazines and come shoe shopping instead. Shopping for shoes is a great distraction from... Well, you should know, you do it often enough yourself. "

Innocently gazing at Logan, I step forward and before I can even stop myself, the words come tumbling out of my mouth. "I need fifty dollars before I start to live, eat and breathe shop lifting again. It could be my calling but I've already promised the future of my scantily clad body to a stripper joint down town." I tell him with all the seriousness of a third rate actress destined to flip burgers for the rest of her life. "Its not like you give me an allowance. So, I have to make my money somehow." I hastily add as his frown deepens.

While we have a battle of the frowns, Bobby and John slowly side step closer to the door with every word that hurtles out of my mouth. "Don't even think about it." Logan snarls, eyeing the two with ferocity. "And I'll deal with you later."

He'll deal with me later? I only wanted to go on my pretend trip in search of new shoes. Oh yes, Rogue ever the innocent party. I always feel so misunderstood.

"That's no way to talk to your only child." I scold, deciding that a little respect is in order. "I don't understand why you're glaring at me like that. I only want to go shopping with these two clowns."

Logan looks about fit to burst. Like a volcano close to spewing lather onto the unfortunate villagers as they attempt to flee from the imminent danger.

"You're lyin' to me again, Kid."

"Oh, come off it, Logan. Do you really think that I'd put my ass on the line for these two chumps?" I'm playing with fire and so close to getting third degree burns, clogging my lungs full of thick smoke, burning the mansion down to the ground, and leaving myself to wither and die in a smoldering heap.

"I dunno. But I'd think things through before you open that mouth of yours again." That is so very harsh and uncalled for. This type of verbal aggression is really getting out of control.

Realization finally dawning on me before its not to late, I decide to change tactics. "Just promise me that you weren't hurt him!" I cry dramatically gazing at the dumbfounded young mutants.

Logan raises an eyebrow in question and I'm more than happy to provide an answer. "I love him and we're going to be together. I've got it all planned out, right down to to the dates of our babies births. The first one's due in eight months and if it's a boy I'll name him after you."

Both Bobby and John gulp repeatedly, their eyes widening in panic. Logan looks rather distressed as my words ring in his ears and his head snaps back to them. "Run" I mouth at them, gesturing wildly behind his back.

After watching hours upon hours of online footage, I know that Cesar Milan encourages you to nudge your dog with your foot to gain their attention. This is supposed to pull them out of the red zone and Logan is most definitely in the red zone right now. I'm the only Wolverine Whisperer in existence and I can do this. After all, it's only a slight nudge. What is the worst that can happen?

I nudge him lightly in the back of the leg with my foot and no... Nothing, not even a sausage. I would ordinarily never dream of doing this to an animal, but tough times call for tough measures and Wolverine really has had this coming from day one.

"Run." I once again mouth to the resident idiots, and boot Logan in the shin as hard as my sneaker will allow me.

Bobby and John dart out of the room not daring to look back while I cradle my foot in my hands. "I think that I've just broken every damn bone in my foot." I moan hopping around the room, a wave of pain shooting through my foot. "You really should carry a warning label."

Having yet to notice Logan furiously rubbing his shin and scowling at me, I hop to the unmade double bed and collapse face first. I groan into the sheets and grimace at the stench of male body odor that tickles my nostrils and makes me sneeze. "You've only just changed these sheets. I can't understand why they already smell." When I fail to receive any type of reply, even a string of curse words fired rapidly at my back, I bravely turn around. "I take it that you don't want to be a Grandpa any time soon?" I say to a bristling Logan as he towers over me. "You could always send me into exile. I vote for Miami."

* * *

I have no idea why Logan is so mad at me, but I do know that the foot nudging does not work... no sir-ree, it certainly doesn't work when Wolverine is concerned. I have half a mind to write an insulting letter to Cesar Milan and tell him that he sucks. The Wolverine Whisperer is now facing a mighty conundrum. Have no fear though, faithful reader, she will triumph in her bid to become the greatest known, world renowned expert of her field.

"It doesn't appear to be broken, Rogue, but I'll need to x-ray you be certain." Jean announces softly with her usual friendly bedside manner. "Will Logan be back soon?"

"I don't know." I answer honestly. "For some reason he was desperate for a cigar."

Of course I know that the only reason he has left my side was to:

A. Calm down, in case he does listen to the gruff voice in his head instructing him to throttle me.

B. Find Bobby and John and gut them on the spot.

C. Smoke his much needed cigar but only after he commits the double homicide he was intent on performing before I interrupted.

"I see." She replies, sounding rather disappointed. "I really do need to talk to him."

"About what?" I ask shifting on the uncomfortable bed in the med lab. For a man that has more money then the entire Royal Family, the Professor has pretty poor taste in furnishings. Although, that may have more to do with the fact that he doesn't have to leave the comfort of his own wheelchair. Where as us poor suckers and our asses have to tolerate the substandard furniture.

"Your English paper." I watch her shuffle the papers on her pristine desk in search of the one with an A+ scrawled on it. "I have to say that I enjoyed reading it."

She did? Aw, isn't that nice. Jean walks over to me with my paper in her hands and presents it to me. "You must be mistaken." I mutter, squinting at the grade marked in red ink at the top of the page. "That's a D"

"Although, I did enjoy reading your paper. I felt that you missed the opportunity to discuss your opinions on the struggles that the characters face in the book." Yes, and that would be the book that I didn't actually find the time to read. The Wolverine Whisperer's job is never done and its an awfully long time consuming hobby. I just don't know how Cesar does it. Maybe he's a seasoned drug user or he could just be cuckoo.

"Why didn't you just fail me?"

"Because," She smiles. "You have a very active imagination. I never knew there were one hundred and one different reasons to visit Miami."

"Have you ever been to Miami?" I ask her, my head now brimming with one hundred and one reasons why I love Jean Grey.

"Yes, when I was eighteen. I went with Scott for spring break." Mr. Tighty Whities actually left the mansion in search of a good time? I have to say that throws me a little. Who would have thought Cyclops was even young at one point?

"Then will you talk to Logan for me?" I plead. "You can tell him that Miami is harmless. Tell him that it's full of sensible geeks like Scott."

"Scott isn't a geek." She sighs. "He's my husband."

"And you have my deepest sympathies."

"Really, Rogue."

"Please, he likes you." I interrupt her before she launches herself into a 'I love Scott, he's a wonderful husband and a fantastic lover' speech. "And he won't listen to me."

"Okay, I'll try." Jean responds her resolve shattering to the shiny ever so spotlessly, squeaky, clean tiled floor with a crash. "But I can't make any promises."

Who said anything about promises? I'm still in with a fighting chance and how could Logan ever turn down a request from Jean?

"How's the kid doin'?" Logan asks gruffly, proclaiming his presence as he strides in the room, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I really need to X-ray Rogue's..."

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine." I talk over a surprised Jean. "See?" Jumping off of the bed, I bolt to the door. "Absolutely fine, no damage done whatsoever. I've got a class to get to, so I'll leave you guys alone. I'm sure you have lots to discuss."

With a dazzling smile, I shoot out of the door before Logan has the chance to growl at me. I just needed to avoid the chewing out I was about to receive from a furious Wolverine, and coming to the med lab seemed like the best option on all counts. I also got to have a one on one conversation with Jean concerning Miami and missing two extremely crappy classes is an extra bonus that I didn't account for.

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. _

"Rogue, I've got a headache. So for the fourth time, can you please stop tapping your pencil against the desk!" Scott commands, beyond exasperated.

"Yes, I would still be hungover too if I drank all that wine last night." I retort smugly from the back of the room. "But, I don't know where you put it all. You must have the bladder the size of Russia."

"Need I remind you that you're supposed to be doing a test." He hisses through clenched teeth, attempting to control his temper.

I gaze around the room watching the other students racing through their own tests. Maybe I should have revised. "No, I understand fully."

"In test conditions, Rogue. That means no talking."

"Then you'd better be quiet, Mr. Summers, you're disturbing the other students." I reply cheekily, fighting to keep the smile off of my face. Oh my God this is just too easy, its like taking candy from a baby.

He shakes his head and returns to marking the pile of papers on his desk. I glance at the first question and I'm already stuck for an answer. Any answer, let alone the correct one.

Question one: What's the geometrical meaning of the central extension of the algebra of diffeomorphisms of the circle?

Is this some sort of trick question? Or have I stumbled into a nerd convention? Maybe Scott is trying to confuse me with a dummy test? Its actually perfectly feasible that I'm the dummy and there is no test.

No, wait. I know the answer, how silly of me. It's Miami. I think that this test is going to be a piece of cake.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. _

"ROGUE!"


	5. Abuse, Absolution and Pink Donuts

**_You guys reviewed, so I give you the next chapter :) Thanks to the following: Soon2Bme, it'scurtainsforyou, JimandSteve, Blitz182, bologna121, twilighter890, DejectiveBlithe, grumpypirate, alexmonalisa, wolverette and Auua Ytjomal._**

_**I loved reading all your comments so please continue. They're all appreciated as always :)**_

_**05.04.10: Another one bites the dust and only another eight to go.**_

* * *

**Abuse, Absolution and Pink Donuts**

Im sitting watching Wolverine, predominately known as the grouchiest, most cantankerous mutant to have ever walked this planet introduce a broken engine to his claws is tedious. The afternoon starts to drag after being issued with the first of many repetitive threats. And, I'm not about to develop a fleeting interest into fusing mutations and mechanics. So what's a girl to do, other then plan the next Wolverine Whisperer step out in her head. I always knew that my active imagination would come in handy one day.

"I think that this would be described as mutant abuse, Logan." I announce slightly sullenly from my spot on the garage floor.

"It ain't abuse." He snorts, eyeing me with amusement as he wipes the grease from his claws onto an old rag.

"It's a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Classes have finished for the day and you're forcing me to watch you submit that poor car engine to serious torturous experiments. Any sane person would tell you that it's an abuse of the worse kind."

"If you'd done what you were told three hours ago you wouldn't be here now. So, do us both a favour and quit stallin'."

Glaring down at the primary source of Logan's anger, I roll my eyes and flick fleetingly through the three hundred and sixty pages of pure trash.

"Its not my cup of tea." I grumble, slamming the book down onto the concrete floor and hugging my knees to my chest.

"You ain't even read the damn thing, Kid." Logan sighs, throwing the dirty rag on the counter and reaching for his bottle of beloved beer.

Oral fixation alert... Oral fixation alert.

"I've read the first sentence." I reply, stretching my arms high above my head and yawning. I was rudely woken this morning just shy of six o'clock by a pissed off Logan. My unwelcome alarm clock with claws and a bad attitude has left me with dark circles under my eyes, two room mates that rather see the back of me and a black mood. "The characters are two dimensional and contrite. I think that the author has deep routed issues with either her parents or guardians, which I can totally understand. It lacks the certain depth needed to engage the reader fully and I'm not surprised that Jean got twelve copies free with a packet of tampons."

Logan cocks an eyebrow and hungrily gulps down a third of his beer. "You got that from just one sentence?" He asks, shaking his head. "Jesus. Jean was right, you ain't tryin' in class."

"You're only saying that because you want to get into her pants." I reply defensively and not thinking of the consequences that bringing up such a taboo subject can have on an untouchable mutant.

"What was that?" He counters, his eyes betraying the deep rooted fury that he's attempting to stifle.

As soon as my eyes reluctantly meet his, my brain begins to backpedal at the speed of light. "What I meant to say was Jean is a very striking woman and any man would..." Logan takes that precise moment to release a warning growl. "I'll just shut up now."

I'm still not remotely sure if Jean actually got as far as mentioning Miami, but she kindly informed him that my grades were slipping. She also handed him my Miami paper. If that's her idea of flirting, then I'm not surprised that when dipping her toe in the dating pool she got herself lumbered with Scott. Being a responsible guardian who appears to be pandering for a naked Jean to touch him in naughty places, Logan decided that we'd be spending the afternoon together.

"Don't you think that we've spent enough quality time together?" I question him with a matching scowl. "You're starting to scare me with this responsible parenting act."

"You ain't leavin' 'til you read that book and write that damn paper."

"But I have plans. I should have been at the mall three hours ago."

"You should have thought about that before you decided to slack off, Marie." Logan replies from underneath the hood of his truck.

"I wasn't slacking off. And the last time I checked, you can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

"Just try me." He growls, slamming the hood shut and taking a menacing step towards me.

Does he really think that another drawn out threat is going to scare me? I've already been kidnapped, used, abused and discarded by my birth family. Compared to my past adventures, this is a gentle stroll in a mutant friendly park on the arm of a billionaire who only has eyes for me. I'm not that easy to pacify anymore because I've seen the worst that this world has to offer.

"If you insist, Asshole." I respond sourly, reaching for the hard backed book and hurling it at him with the force of a New York Yankees pitcher.

* * *

Lounging on my single bed, I stare angrily at the Orlando Bloom poster plastered on the opposite side of the room. I bet Kitty deliberately put it there so it was directly in my line of vision. She knows how much I dislike Will Turner. My feet are firmly stuck in the Jack Sparrow camp. That stupid smug English bastard, with the perfectly styled hair and the bleached white set of teeth. Who does he think he is smiling at me like that? I don't even know him and even if I did, he's not my type. I like a guy that's dangerous with the added bonus of good looks and a sense of adventure. Will Turner just doesn't make the grade.

Interrupting my musings on my perfect man, my keeper (Who appears to have finally calmed down) opens my the bedroom door and steps over the threshold. "Have you finished with the dramatics now, Kid?" Logan grunts, hands deep in his jacket pockets.

"I think so. After all, a time out is just what every sixteen year old girl needs."

"If you don't like it, then quit throwin' tantrums." He replies sternly. "You start actin' like a two year old, then I'm gonna treat you like one."

"I don't have tantrums. What you witnessed was a dignified protest. A protest against the inhumane conditions and rules that my slave driver of a guardian is trying to force upon me." I inform him testily. I swear that Orlando Bloom's eyes are following Logan around the room. Its quite creepy in a Tim Burton type of way. "And this is a ridiculous and low punishment if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you." Logan answers gruffly, sitting beside me and almost crushing my feet under his weight. "You stepped out of line and there's gonna be consequences."

I've always hated the word consequences. My life seems to be a tapestry made up of crudely sewn occurrences, actions and consequences. It can get a little redundant at times.

"I know." I sigh admittedly, turning to face Logan.

"Yeah and you still keep actin' like a brat." He smirks, ruffling my hair.

"Does this mean I'm officially forgiven? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?" I ask him as I duck away from his hand. He's making a mockery of my tightly plaited hair.

"Are you gonna do that work for Jean?" Logan questions me seriously with a frown.

Ugh, I hate it when he acts so serious. Especially when it revolves around Jean. "Yes. I promise."

I wrap my arms around his burly neck and he hugs me close. There's nothing like receiving a Logan bear hug as absolution for a bad deed. Although, I do stand by my earlier actions. He thoroughly deserved that missile of crappy literature being thrown at his head. It probably wasn't one of my best moments when I called him an asshole. For a moment there, I really thought that he was going to ram the book down my throat and then kill me on the spot. Naturally, he caught the book in his hands before it slammed into his head. I don't think that I would have been able to even talk to you all right now if it had met its target. After all, ghosts can't verbally communicate with the living. But hey, I blame my hormones.

"What do I get in return?"

"What do you mean?" Logan replies, releasing me from his comforting grip and standing to his feet.

"If I do the work, hand it in to Jean and then make her day. What's in it for me?" If I'm going to spend my valuable Wolverine Whispering time doing homework, then I want to be dually rewarded for my efforts.

"I don't ground your ass." He growls over his shoulder, walking to the door. "You comin', Kid?"

"I suppose so. I'd rather not stay in here alone with that Will Turner poster." I tell him, hurriedly jumping to my feet. "Logan, you do know that you being my guardian is just a way of stopping Cyclops from interfering too much. Right? And nobody grounds there kids, its so nineties." I mutter to his back, trailing after him. "Personally I think if it makes Jean happy, then it should be rewarded with a trip to Miami. Do you agree?"

"Hell no."

"Strangely enough that doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

* * *

"What can I get for you, Sweetie?" The plump, red faced and wrinkly waitress asks me.

"Donuts." I reply with a wide grin. "Four donuts. Four pink donuts. Four pink donuts with sprinkles."

Even after the way I behaved today, Logan has brought me to a diner a mere fifteen minute drive away from the mansion. He said that he'd had enough of hearing my stomach grumble every other minute and then refused to eat the rabbit food Scott was serving up as fine cuisine. So here we are at a dingy downtown diner, two misfits with a shared history and a dislike of Scott Summers. The waitress is still fixing me with a reproachful look. Doesn't she understand that I'm in the mood for a sugar high? I've only asked her for some donuts, not a threesome along with the gangly cook behind the trash cans in the back alley.

"Four?" She repeats, tapping her pen lightly on the note pad. Maybe Scott was right. That tapping can get a little annoying after a while. "Four pink donuts with sprinkles?"

"Yes, four pink donuts with sprinkles."

The waitress with the name badge 'Sally' jots down the order on her small but perfectly formed note pad. "And what would your dad like?" Logan is currently in the carsey doing his thing. It must be all that beer he drinks and a male Wolverine needs to mark his territory. So, I'm sure that he's in his element in the men's restroom decorating the walls with his pee.

"My dad will have a large glass of orange juice. He really needs to cut back on the booze and he's getting a beer gut. Bring him the largest, juiciest, crunchiest bowl of salad that you have." I pause to scan the menu in search of anything that takes my fancy. "I'll have a double shot of your finest whiskey with a dash of diet coke. You do stock whiskey in this type of establishment, don't you?"

The woman blinks at me for several long seconds. "Is something wrong?" I ask her, worrying for her sanity.

"I could have sworn that your eyes just changed colour. They almost seemed blue." She responds with an airy laugh. "These double shifts are really taking it out on me. Do you have any ID you can show me?"

"You homosapiens and your compliments. Are you a God fearing woman, Sally?"

Sally the waitress looks decidedly shifty and quickly glances around the packed diner. "I won't be a moment with your drinks."

I don't understand why she seems so uneasy around me. Am I sending off giant mutant vibes or something?

Logan sits opposite me in my chosen booth beside the window. It provides a gorgeous view of the freeway and a number of giant pylons. "What took you so long? Were you having naughty thoughts about Jean again?"

Sending a withering glare in my direction that makes me snap my mouth shut before I get myself into further trouble, he slouches back in his seat. "You order?" He grunts, digging in his pocket and producing a cigar that he places between his lips..

Oral fixation alert... Oral fixation alert.

"Yes."

It's time for me to assert my pack leader attributes and make a name for myself. I have to be calm and assertive while dealing with Wolverine and I need to claim back an object that he's obsessed with. Just as Logan goes to light his cigar I reach forward and pluck the cigar from his lips, sitting back down with one of his main infatuations safely tucked in my hand. Though how long it will stay there is anyones guess because he's doesn't appear to be particularly tickled.

"Here are the drinks you ordered."

Logan arches an eyebrow as Sally plants a tall glass of orange juice with a curly fluorescent pink straw in front of him. His eyebrow raises dangerously higher as she tries to hand me a drink that smells distinctly like Whiskey.

"Your double whiskey and diet coke." She says, holding the glass under my nose.

"No, you've got to be mistaken. I didn't order that." I splutter, feeling Logan's icy glare boring into me. "I don't even like whiskey!"

"I might be many things but I'm not senile. You ordered this, so its yours."

"Logan, I swear I didn't order it."

Waitress Sally, who appears to be enjoying this a little too much, places the drink on the table and gazes at her notepad. "Your order was, let me see. Four pink donuts with sprinkles."

"I'm a growing girl but I don't like whiskey." I interrupt, in response to Logan's continuous and unwavering scowl. Its quite unnerving the way he can portray his feelings with just one long black look.

"A glass of orange juice for your father because of his beer gut and a large bowl of salad." Do you ever have a moment where you wish the ground would swallow you whole?. "Good luck with the diet." I'm sure that you have them all the time and now its my turn to feel the shame. "And a double whiskey and diet coke. I was unsure at first whether to serve your daughter but after discovering that she was a mutant I felt like I had no choice."

My jaw hits the floor with a thud that echos off the walls. "You make it sound as though I threatened you for a drink that I never even asked for!"

"Just bring the bill, we won't be needin' the food." Logan grounds out through a set of gleaming canines.

Watching him and Sally share a lingering look, my stomach begins to sink and I twirl the stolen cigar in my fingers. "Logan..."

"I don't wanna hear it."

"You're not going to believe her are you?" I demand angrily, slamming my gloved fist down on the table.

"You've pushed it too far this time, kid." Logan growls, dragging the double whiskey and diet coke to his side and knocking in back. "You're grounded."

The Wolverine Whisperer cannot get grounded. She's a visionary and radical behavioural expert, spring break is only thirteen days away and she doesn't even like whiskey!


	6. A Glittery Glove, Singing and Trouble

**_A big, big, big thanks to JimandSteve, twilighter890, bologna121, alexmonalisa, sofimac16, Dragongirl of the Stars, Anei, Soon2Bme, Generated Anomoly (Doctor who fan!) ,Yuki Kuroneko and Blitz182. As always I enjoyed and appreciated reading every review :)_**

**_Also a thank you to those adding this fic to their favourites._**

**_08.04.10 - I've just finished editing/re-writing this chapter. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. LOL_**

**_

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**A Sparkly Glittery Glove, Singing and Trouble**

Once again in a matter of days I have had to hang my Wolverine Whisperer cap up and concentrate on more pressing matters. I've also given up on Miami for the moment and have spent the past four hours reading until I thought that my eyes were going to bleed. I don't think that I've ever seen Logan so angry at me. I still maintain that I didn't order that drink, let alone threaten her with my powers. Personally I'm beginning to think that the only reason he grounded me was because I insinuated to the waitress that he had a beer gut and a drink problem. I've recently discovered that men can be very fickle, conceited and easily offended creatures.

He also informed me with a growl, that if I ever mentioned Miami to him again I wouldn't be allowed to step foot outside of the mansion until I turned twenty one. I might have almost died at the hands of a geriatric kidnapper but there is no thought more scary then being confined to this mansion for over five years.

So, here I am in my room being a good girl (Please note the use of sarcasm) just like I promised. I've sucked it up, read the God awful excuse for a book and I have lost all respect for Jean's teaching credentials. I thought she might have been having an off day when she married Scott but exposing her class to this freebie is unforgivable.

Still, I have a paper to write and it has to be longer then my first chosen word 'Baloney.' Trust me when I say that reading that book was punishment enough. Who knew that any idiot could get published nowadays.

Logan also had an unfortunate talk with Cyclops after we returned earlier. That surprise math quiz might just be my downfall. I didn't even get a grade because Scott lazily gave up marking my test after the second page. He said that my answers had become too 'Run of the mill.' In the words of someone that actually lives in this century; He means that Miami isn't considered a satisfactory answer when asked what the square root of pi is. Unfortunately, I have to retake the test and my social life is really going to suffer.

I swear that Logan was going to blow a gasket. I was hoping that he'd finally gut Cyclops but he turned on me instead and boy, did I get a chewing out.

I don't like to admit when I'm wrong, it goes against all my principals. But, thinking that Logan would be a cool guardian is one thought too far. He really has surprised me with his strictness. He's such a disciplinarian that I can't help but wonder what he wants to do to Jean when he finally gets his hands on her. Yet, it isn't all doom and gloom because I know that he loves me. Even if he never admits it; we're family.

* * *

I have finally finished my paper and could honestly jump for joy. I've written twenty detailed pages on a dreary and oppressive book that sucked. That's why I'm standing outside Scott and Jean's room. I wouldn't be here otherwise for obvious reasons. It's ten o'clock at night and I want to hand my paper to her because I feel an odd sense of pride that I've actually finished a piece of homework to the best of my ability.

Knocking on the door, I wait patiently for the occupants to answer. After three minutes off tapping my foot in annoyance and knocking again, the door creeks open slightly and Scott's disheveled head peers around the crack.

"Can I help you Rogue?" He asks me, looking a little flushed.

"Just hand this to Jean." I reply, eagerly holding out the twenty sheets of paper and the book that I borrowed. "Its my homework."

"Sure." Scott mutters. "I'll make sure that she gets it."

I pretend that I didn't just read too much into his last comment and wave the papers impatiently in his face. As he reaches out to receive my generous gift of thirteen thousand words plus, my attention is directly drawn to the sparkly glittery glove that he's wearing.

That is so gross. Now I understand why Scott is hiding behind the door, he's probably naked from the head down. I think that I've just interrupted there...

"Is that all Rogue? I'm slightly busy at the moment."

"I bet you are. You're more than welcome to return to your equally naked wife now. Just don't tire poor Jean out, she needs to read my paper before she goes to sleep. And remember, use protection and don't be a selfish lover. I hear that its all about give and take." I tell him with a giggle as I turn to walk away. "Oh, and Scott?"

"What?" He sighs, his face glowing a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Billie Jean is not my lover. She's just a girl that claims that I am the one." I'm singing slightly out of tune but I figured that it was the thought that counts. "Keep on with the force. Don't stop, don't stop 'till you get enough. Um, what other Michael Jackson songs are there?"

Scott stands there with a frown as he continues to hide himself behind the door. "Beat it Rogue."

"Oh, good one Scotty. I'd forgotten all about that song." I reply with a little more then a sprinkle of enthusiasm. "Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it. No one wants to be defeated_... _Hey! that's not the polite way to act when someone's singing your praises!" That rude, rude man has just shut the door in my face. "You really shouldn't have done that!" I inform the two naked people behind the door. "Because I'm bad, I'm bad, come on. You know I'm bad, I'm bad, you know it, you know. Bad, bad, really, really bad!"

Finally giving up with my teasing for tonight, I huff and spot Storm watching me as she muffles her laughter with her hand. "Quite a talent you have there Rogue." She smiles regally."Goodnight."

I wave her off to bed and venture downstairs for a snack. There was me thinking that being grounded would equal me having no fun but annoying Cyclops really has made my night.

* * *

As I put the finishing touches to my cheese sandwich and greedily open a large bag of salted chips, I hear the Professor wheel himself into the kitchen.

"I hear that you had a rather eventful night." Charles Xavier announces, stopping short of running over my toes with his wheelchair.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." I reply ruefully, sinking my teeth hungrily into the fluffy white bread.

"You still hear his voice in your head. Don't you?"

"Who's voice exactly? You're going to have to be more specific."

"Magneto's." He replies in a crisp accent.

"Why does it matter?" I huff glaring at the all mighty, all knowing Charles Xavier. I place my sandwich back on the counter and take a handful of chips instead. Hoping that my continuous eating will gently let him know that I'm not in the mood to discuss my mutation.

"There are a great many things that I don't know Rogue." He smiles knowingly, having heard my thoughts."And if the voices in your head are bothering you again. I'd like to help."

"They're not bothering me."

"What about coercing you into buying an alcoholic beverage?" The professor suggests with a raised eyebrow. "Eric was always partial to his whiskey and coke."

I never imagined that Magneto would be the type to let his hair down and party the night away. But I suppose that everyone has a day off. Even the raving lunatics with the urge to slaughter the entire human race. "Are you saying that Magneto's psyche took over my mind just so that he could buy a whiskey and coke?" I exclaim, dropping my much loved bag of chips onto the kitchen floor and lowering myself into a chair.

"It's perfectly plausible."

"So that's why the waitress was behaving so strangely. I thought that she was just nuts."

"I believe that you need to go and talk to Logan. I'm sure that he'll be far more lenient with you once he knows the full circumstances."

"No." I snap back at him, standing to my feet and sweeping down to catch the bag of chips. "If he finds out that my powers are going slightly haywire, he'll never let me out of his sight." If Logan turns into a mother hen then I can't go to Miami and my life is going to be officially over... Until the next spring break and then this will probably start all over again.

"Sometimes difficult sacrifices are worth making." After delivering that piece of sage old advice the Professor wheels away leaving me alone in the kitchen.

The truth is I'm slightly torn between both decisions. I can either tell Logan about the conversation that me and the Professor have just shared or I carry on scheming to reach my goal. Decisions, decisions decisions. Why do they have to be so complicated?

* * *

After continuously searching for twenty minutes, I eventually find Logan loitering beside the woods in the extensive grounds of the institute. This is probably the first place that I would of checked if I wasn't an idiot. He always comes out here when he needs to think, calm down or pace back and forth in peace. With over half of my chips now eaten, I clear my throat nervously and shift my weight from foot to foot.

"Hey." I greet softly, shivering slightly against the howling wind. "Would you like a chip?"

"It's late Kid." Logan sighs, puffing on his cigar and gazing over the grounds.

My mind is made up as soon as those words leave his mouth. The Wolverine Whisperer doesn't just give in when things get to tough, she's a fighter. Whatever the Professor believes that happened earlier tonight can easily be explained away. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

He sneaks a glance at me and looks suspicious. "What? Isn't a girl allowed to apologize once in a while?"

"You really ain't bothered that I grounded your ass?"

"A little bit." I admit to him glumly. "But I'll get over it eventually." Another shiver takes me by surprise and my teeth begin to chatter.

"That's a real grown up attitude to have." Logan replies, taking off his battered leather jacket and handing it to me. "You been hangin' out with One Eye?"

"Not likely." I smirk, gratefully wrapping myself in the solid hunk of cattle hide that is still emitting his warmth. "Me and Scott don't really see eye to eye."

"Good thing to or I'd take my jacket back." He snorts, watching me take a seat on the bench and unwrap my bag of chips.

"Why are you out here?"

"Cause it's a little to noisy in there."

I cock my head to the side and make a few noncommittal noises."I never heard them actually at it. I just interrupted them and Scott came to the door naked."

Logan jaw starts to twitch and I begin to think that another storm is approaching, until I realize that the distant rumble of thunder is in fact a feral growl. "I didn't see anything!" I tell him hurriedly. "Well, I saw his sparkly glittery glove and his face, but that was about it. He was hiding behind the door. Anyway it was all your fault, you made me write that paper."

The wave of fury vanishes from his features and he stares openly at me. "You handed in that paper already?"

"Yes. All twenty sheets of it."

He sighs and sits next to me on the bench. "Logan?" I whisper glancing at the blanket of stars that we are both sitting under. "Why did you agree to be my guardian?"

Watching me closely for a few minutes, he lights another cigar. "Cause' you're my Kid." Logan answers gruffly, his eyes darting away from me and resting on the mansion instead.

My head comes to rest on his thigh and Logan's hand begins to card through my hair avoiding any accidental contact with my skin. "Logan?" I question him yet again.

"Yeah?"

"Do ever want to have an adventure?"

"What do you mean?" He questions, chewing on his cigar and gazing down at me.

"Do you ever feel like having a real adventure? Just waking up and spontaneously leaving the mansion. Maybe having some fun along the way." I clarify, meeting his eyes.

"No." I roll my eyes and gaze back up at the sparkling stars in the nights sky. "Adventures always lead to trouble."

I think he might just be hinting at the time I almost died on Liberty Island. "How long am I grounded for?"

"Dunno." He grunts releasing a ring of smoke from his lips. "Maybe a week. Think you can stay outta trouble that long?"

Me? Stay out of trouble? I think that trouble should have been my middle name. "Of course I can!" I scoff at the absurdity of the question.

"Then a week."

I think the questioning is going quite well so far. Maybe I can slip in a Miami question without him noticing.

"What do you have against that place in Florida? The place that does have a name but I've been banned from mentioning it in a certain someone's presence." I mumble closing my eyes before he starts to yell. "I know that you told me not to ask you again. But is Miami really that bad?"

Logan sighs deeply and snuffs out his cigar on the bench. "The drinkin', the drugs and the casual sex. Pick one."

"The drinking, the drugs and the casual sex?" I blush at the last comment and sit up. "Sorry to burst your bubble but my skin prevents me from... You know." I gesture to my body with my gloved hands.

"That ain't gonna put off everyone Kid. Some assholes ain't gonna take no for an answer."

Okay then, he has a point there. "You can't protect me forever. And the drinking and drugs. Well I wouldn't touch either of them because you'd kick my ass."

"You got that right." He growls warningly.

"I think that's my cue to go to bed before you launch into another over-my-dead-body lecture."

Standing up I gaze down at him. "Just please think about Spring break." I plead almost like a victim begging for their life to be spared. "I promise that I'll do everything you say from now on. I'll hand in every piece of Jean's homework. What if I stop lying to your face and flipping you off when you turn your back? Okay, I'll even stop skipping classes when you go to Canada and I won't sneak out at night while you're still at the bar."

"You've been doin' what?" Logan snarls, glaring at me.

I'm really not sure which part of my speech he's referring to and I don't plan on sticking around long enough to find out. "I'll just be going now." I mutter, turning on my heels and walking hurriedly to the mansion. I think that I've just landed myself into a whole heap of trouble. Me and my big mouth. I bet this never happened to Cesar Milan.


	7. Mysterious Men, Crushes and Improvements

**Thanks to Soon2Bme, Anei, wolverette, Bologna121, JimandSteve, Blitz182, TENaSeein', Dragongirl of the Stars, sam, alexmonalisa, OneWishMakeItCount and CurrentlyIncognito :) For reviewing!**

**_Yes, this chapter is short but it took me a while to write. I decided to bring in another character (All TENaSeein's fault LOL) I personally don't think that I'm very good at writing for this character but I had a go. I just hope that I haven't slaughtered him ;) As usual let me know what you think :)_**

**_09.04.10 - Edited._**

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**Mysterious Men, Crushes and Improvements **

"Jubilee, I'm sorry okay." I inform my best friend for the hundredth time that morning. "It just slipped out."

"I couldn't care less if you're sorry Roguey. How the heck are we going to sneak out of here again?" She demands arms crossed and an uncharacteristic scowl framing her features.

I never took Logan for a gossip queen, but that was probably my first mistake of many. He's forcefully snatched away Jubilee's crown of glory. The one that sat proudly on her big head and let everyone know that she was the resident gossip queen of this mansion. Now he's wearing the crown much to Jean's pleasure and Jubilee's disgust. Logan told Jean, Jean told Scott, Scott told Storm and all of them minus Logan went to see the Professor. Which is why I'm now on the receiving end of many dirt looks and some unimaginative name calling. Trust me, it's like being back in Kindergarten.

"I'm sorry!" I cry, waving my arms dramatically in the air. "It's not like I went out of my way just to piss you off."

While walking wordlessly down the stairs both refusing to break the silence that is hanging over our heads, we catch sight of a smiling Storm. It's not out of the ordinary to see her smiling , she seems to smile at the drop of a hat. Storm's a very smiley person, she's really living up to that label right now and embracing a very, very, very attractive looking guy. Not just attractive but beautiful. Mr. Beautiful even has shinier hair then I have. Strangely, I want to touch him all over and that long brown trench coat that he's wearing is...

"Amazing." Jubilee sighs, placing a hand on my arm to keep herself steady. "He's amazing." I couldn't agree more.

"Remy Etienne LeBeau." Ororo scolds still smiling. "You were supposed to arrive two weeks ago. I've been worried."

"Y'don't need to worry Stormy. Gambit can take care of himself." My fingers are aching to brush through his dark locks as he flashes a smile. "An' all dat' worryin' is givin' y'wrinkles."

"I don't have wrinkles." She replies curtly appearing offended at such a suggestion. I guess the only way to stop her from smiling is to tell her that she has wrinkles deeper than a life time smoker. "And don't call me Stormy, it sounds ridiculous."

Myself and Jubilee quickly dissolve into giggles when Storm continues to seethe at her friend. "Ah, it looks like we have an audience. Y'never told Remy there'd be _assez filles_ for him to meet."

Storm gazes over at us standing at the foot of the stairs. "Would that have even made a difference?" She asks him skeptically.

"_Ou_i. I would have been two weeks early instead."

He strides up to us with more front than Mick Jagger at Hooters and takes my gloved hand in his. "Pleasure to meet y'Chere." He drawls, kissing my hand as I blush uncontrollably at the sentiment. "Remy LeBeau Prince of de thieves guild at your service."

"Really Remy." Storm admonishes. "I didn't invite you here to flirt."

"Remember de wrinkles Stormy." Remy retorts cheekily. "Does de Chere have a name dat Gambit can match to de pretty face?"

I can't believe that this is actually happening. Men, boys, dogs and children usually flock straight to Jubilee. Not the girl with the skin condition. As soon as this Remy LeBeau prince of the thieves guild knows about my toxic skin he'll soon be humping against my friends leg. "It's Rogue." I whisper softly, my voice betraying the stirring in my loins.

"I'm Jubilation Lee." My forgotten friend pipes up feeling wholly unloved.

"Dats' your mutant name non?" I find myself nodding my head and blankly staring into his eyes, my gloved hand still held in his.

"You might wanna give the Kid her hand back before I'm forced to slice yours off." A gruff voice growls from behind us.

It feels as though our eyes are hungrily undressing each other but the spell is instantly broken when he drops my hand.

"Remy LeBeau meet Wolverine." Storm announces hoping to avoid an ugly confrontation. "He's a little protective of Rogue."

"Bonjour mon ami."

"I ain't your friend Gumbo." Logan snarls stepping in front of me. "And you keep your hands to yourself. That's your first and only warnin'. Got it?"

"Oui M'sieu. Gambit hears y'loud an' clear." He smirks throwing a flirtatious wink in my direction.

I jump as Logan's heavy hand finds my shoulder and he steers me away from the hall, growling under his breath.

Grinning over my shoulder at Gambit and finally free of my funny thoughts, I notice that Jubilee is nowhere to be seen. When did she leave? "Did you have to act like that?" I complain, as he pushes me into the deserted kitchen. "He's only just arrived and you've already threatened him. I think that's a new record."

"He's lucky that Cajun shish kabob ain't on the menu tonight." Logan grumbles, storming over to retrieve an ice cold beer from the fridge.

I glare at my jail warden until he sighs and sits at the kitchen table a beer clutched tightly in his hand. "Come here."

I watch him wearily from my position at the door under no allusions that I can out run him. "I ain't gonna hurt you kid." Traipsing over to his side, he pulls me into his lap and cracks open his bottle of beer. "You're gonna get yourself hurt. Guy's like him are..."

"Logaaaaan." I groan my head resting on his shoulder. "Before you start the sex talk, You really shouldn't waste your breath. Those Playboy magazines of yours have already told me all that I need to know."

"I confiscated those magazines." He reminds me sharply and gulps his beer down like mere water. "And you're not helpin'."

"You shouldn't worry." I tease him, remembering Remy's remark to Storm. "You'll get wrinkles."

"Good thing I've got a healin' factor then." Logan snorts ruffling my hair. "I've gotta go out for awhile. Chuck needs me to collect some parts with One Eye."

Is he crazy? No, the Professor must have finally lost his ancient marbles. One of them won't come back alive and my money is on Cyclops. "Can I come?" I ask him, desperate to avoid going to another one of Jean's English classes. She might force me to read another book that she's gotten free from Wallmart.

"You've got class." He unhelpfully reminds me.

I stand to my feet and cross my arms. "But what if you murder Scott? Then Jean will never jump into bed with you. She'll die at the age of forty nine surrounded by cats and photos of Cyclops. And you'll never get your leg over again because you'll be locked away for the rest of your life in a high security mutant prison. Just think of it my way, it's a win win situation if I come along for the ride."

"You ain't missin' another class. I figured you've skipped enough when I took off to Canada." Logan frowns at me throwing his empty bottle in the trash.

Cesar Milan is right a dominant dog - a dominant Wolverine rules the house but he's showing signs of improvement. I was sure that he was going to gut Gambit earlier but he resorted to growling instead. Growling is a language and a warning to those around the Wolverine. It clearly states that you had better back away and stop what you're doing or he'll resort to physical measures to stop you. I understand now that changing a feral Wolverine can make a difference to the world or even just Westchester, New York in my case. Instead of yelling and growled demands, Wolverine took the time to speak to me calmly and that my friends means that he deserves a treat.

I dig around in my jacket pocket searching for the cigar that I took away from him at the diner. "Here." I say, handing him his cigar back. Sure, its a little crushed and he'll have a hell of a job trying to light it let alone smoke it, but returning his possession is a rewarding treat for good behaviour.

Logan opens his mouth to say something just as Gambit walks in to the room. "We meet again Chere." Remy grins at me and I blush furiously.

"Hi." I reply with a tiny squeak. The Ragin' Cajun slides onto a stool with playing cards in his hands. "What are you doing with those?"

"Playin'." He replies. "Y'can always join me. It ain't much fun alone and Stormy's in one of her moods."

"Sure. My next lesson doesn't start for a while yet."

"Get to class Kid." Logan growls glaring at us both.

"But I've got twenty minutes..."

"Then you'll be early for once."

"You make it sound as though I'm always late." I snap back, more than happy to return his suspicious glare. He's acting like I've just agreed to play strip poker in my room.

"Pardon my askin' M'sieu but who died an' made y'God?" Remy asks never glancing away from his cards.

Luckily for Gambit he only earns a thunderous growl in response to his hilarious and witty question. Cyclops chooses that exact moment to stroll into the room. "Are you ready to leave now Wolverine?" The fearless leader questions the quietly raging mutant.

"Leave?" Logan grunts eyeing both myself and the Cajun.

"Yes, leave." Scott sighs. "We have a lot to do today."

"Get you ass to the garage kid."

Having now decided that I would rather stay here with Remy, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "But I want to play cards." My declaration falls on two sets of deaf ears.

"Move it." Logan orders following closely behind Scott.

I watch them walk away and turn to Remy. "Maybe some other time."

"MARIE!" The impatient asshole bellows from outside the door.

"Y'had better go Chere. Papa Wolverine don't sound happy wit' you."

"He never is." I grouse, saying goodbye to Remy and dragging my feet to the garage.

They say that when a Wolverine is balanced you are going to enjoy a true friend. Yeah, that's great but how do you put those words into practice. If I need to inspire Wolverine to become well balanced then I might as well give up now because this task is impossible. So, its the state of mind and not the size of the mutant that counts, huh? I'm starting to seriously question my state of mind. What was I thinking believing that I could take on the high and morally mighty Wolverine?


	8. Road Trippin', Beef Jerky and Torture

**_Aw, that's great that you're all liking Gambit :) Sadly he's not in this next chapter. I couldn't pass up the chance of Rogue, Logan and Scott being stuck in a car together for hours on end._**

**_Thanks to all those that reviewed and added this fic to their favourites. TENaSeein', alexmonalisa, OneWishMakeItCount, Blitz182, JimandSteve, Bologna121, Soon2Bme, wolverette, Cad2u, sofimac16, Anei, TheLittleRogue, CurrentlyIncognito and Sniktchick._**

**_09.04.10- Another edit. Not much has changed but Remy is now officially 21. I didn't want him to sound like too much of a pervert. Although he probably needs all the help he can get. _**

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**Road Trippin', Beef Jerky and Musical Torture**

"Are we there yet?" I ask for the twenty second time in fifteen minutes. I'm bored, almost bored to damn tears. I wish I had gone to class now or at least stayed to play with Remy. Play cards I mean, I haven't been thinking about playing with anything else. Who knew that being stuck in a car with Logan and Scott would be pure torture? Forget thumb screws, flogging and hanging some poor guy on a rack while ropes pull his arms and legs off. Just stick them in a car with these two idiots and they will know the real meaning of psychological torture.

"No Rogue. We're not there yet." Scott sighs peering at me in the rear view mirror.

"Can't you drive faster?" I question him. He should have let Logan drive. At least then little old ladies wouldn't be zooming past us on the freeway. "We're being laughed at."

"I'm sure One Eye's used to it by now." Logan snorts from the front passenger seat.

"I'm driving within the speed limit." Cyclops says lecturing us both on the importance of road safety. "Laws aren't there to be broken. Especially those put in place to keep us from harm."

"Ugh." I groan hitting my head against the window. "That is such bullshit."

"Watch your mouth Kid."

I tut at how hypocritical Logan sounds, fold my arms and stare out of the window as the car crawls down the highway at five miles an hour. I wonder how Storm knows Gambit? Did they date? Or are they just friends? No, he looked a little young to be romantically involved with the weather goddess. Maybe she likes them young? Does she like toy boys?

"Scott, how old is Gambit?" I ask, glancing at the back of his head. Yuck, he has a really bad case of dandruff.

"Too old for you." Logan replies gazing over his shoulder with a knowing look.

"Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions?"

"Cause' I know you." He answers simply while producing a cigar from his pocket.

"He's twenty one." Scott tells me. "Logan this is a no smoking vehicle. You can't smoke that in here."

Logan raises his eyebrow and glares at Scott. "Yeah and who's gonna stop me. You?"

"If I have to."

I glance back out the window wishing that I had remembered to bring my iPod with me. I would kill to listen to an angry, head banging, rock track right now. As Logan and Scott continue to bicker, I know that this is going to be a long drive and possibly the day from hell.

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"I'm hungry." I complain patting my rumbling stomach. "Can we stop for something to eat?"

"You should have eaten before we left Rogue." Scott chides taking over a white four door saloon at a snails pace.

"The Kids gotta eat." Logan growls eyeing Cyclops with contempt. "And I need a smoke."

"Logan, you're really not going to teach her anything if you let her have her own way all the time."

I huff in the back seat. "I never get my own way." What planet has Scott been living on these past six months or so?

"I don't need advice from you Scooter."

"Well you would benefit from listening to me once in a while."

"Listen here boy..." Logan snarls his eyes hardening with an alarming glint.

"Boy? We're practically the same age." He scoffs keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the road.

"Really..." This is going to get out of hand if I don't say something, anything soon.

I unbuckle my seat belt and lean forward. "I think that you're both unbelievably old." I inform them reaching for the radio. "And I'd like to listen to something else besides your whining."

Both 'Old men' glance at me as I press a button and the car is thrown back into the nineteen seventies. The Jackson Five boom over the speakers and Logan covers his ears with his hands.

'ABC easy as 123 or simple as do re mi, ABC, 123, baby, you and me girl. ABC easy as 123 as simple as...'

The song finishes mid sentence as Logan thrusts his claws into the CD player and sparks fly in all directions. "LOGAN!" Scott screams sounding like a fan girl in the middle of The Beatles mania of ninety sixty four. "Was that necessary!?"

"Hell yes." Logan grumbles glaring at me. "Sit back and put your damn seat belt on."

"Why?" I'm feeling pissed off now that the Jackass has wrecked my only source of amusement. "Do you see Sabretooth anywhere?" I ask sarcastically my eyes darting around the car. "I would hate to pull a Wolverine and get thrown through the windscreen. Especially when there's no snow to cushion my fall."

Logan watches me for a full minute and a half not saying a word. When he does choose to speak I have to strain my ears to hear. "Don't push it." He orders in a low threatening growl that fills me with dread. "Sit back down."

I quickly do as I'm told, put my seat belt back on and twiddle my thumbs. "Shame." I mutter under my breath. "At least a Sabretooth sighting would have entertained me for a minute or two."

* * *

'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap'

"Rogue!" Scott shouts punching the steering wheel in irritation.

"What?" I ask innocently, my fingernails tapping against the glass.

"Stop that tapping!"

I think Cyclops is only upset because he's been trying to pry his Jackson Five CD out of the destroyed player for the past ten minutes. Without any luck I might add. "What am I going to tell Jean?" He sighs. "She bought me that CD for my last birthday." As he starts to talk to the CD begging it to come to daddy, I wrinkle my brow in disgust and hop out of the stationary car in search of Logan.

We're parked beside a gas station and Logan has gone into the small, rundown store to buy some food. I tug my gloves out of my back pocket and tug them on. I know it would serve someone right if they were to touch my hand and then fall to the ground dead; but having that person in my head for the rest of my life doesn't fill me with joy. So the gloves will have to stay on for the moment.

The bell jingles as I open the door and make my way inside the store on the look out for a grouchy Wolverine. I grab a basket and slowly walk around the aisles filling it with food, food and food. Did I mention that I was starving?

"Hey, they have beef jerky." I cry excitedly as a hand falls on my shoulder.

"You gonna eat all that?" Logan asks me arching an eyebrow at the candy, snacks and beef jerky.

"Yes and I'll even get us the beef jerky because I'm feeling sentimental." I smile at him, thinking back to Laughlin City. Which was as far removed from a city as he could be. Why would you name a place Laughlin City when it was an utter shit hole with two houses and a bar?

Wolverine brushes the cobwebs off of his wallet and hands me a fifty dollar bill. "Pay for that and meet me outside." He leaves the store and I roam around the food aisle one last time. Oh my God the dog treats are on special offer this week. There are four packs for two dollars. I couldn't could I?

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"Finally Rogue. What took you so long? Cyclops uncharacteristically grumbles as I slide into the backseat with my three bags of snacks.

"There was a queue oh great fearless leader." I tease him, opening the bag and munching on some beef jerky. "Sure, I thought about draining their asses just so that I could have been served faster but that would have been wrong."

Scott shakes his head and starts the car. "What?" I ask Logan as he holds his hand out to me. "I'm eating, leave me alone."

"Change." He grunts.

I sigh melodramatically and place five measly cents in his hand. "Don't spend it all at once." I grin to myself and rummage in my bag for the large bottle of coke. Jeez, who would have known being a sarcastic teen would make me so thirsty? I sip my fizzy drink and blatantly ignore Logan's growing anger at my refusal to cough up the rest of his change.

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to face Cyclops. "Stop the car." He growls.

"You should have gone to the restroom back there Logan. We can't stop now. I want to get there and back before dusk." Scott informs him as I choke on my drink and the bubbles shoot out of my nose.

"You guys kill me." I giggle. "You should take your double act on the road. You would make a fortune."

"Pull over One eye."

"Have you ever considered that a nickname like that upsets me?" Scott questions him.

I'm now close to death by lack of oxygen or uncontrollable laughter. Whatever you want to call it. I hold my stomach and howl, chuckle and guffaw, having lost complete control of my senses. I think it's a girl thing myself. Or it might just be a Rogue thing judging by the looks I'm receiving from the passing cars.

"What would you prefer Summers?" Logan demands. "Dick? Asshole? Scooter? Cyke? Slim?..."

"My name is Scott."

The mutant known as 'Scott' takes his eyes off the road for a few seconds to face Logan. "Watch the damn road!" Wolverine barks.

Cyclops gasps as he narrowly misses smashing into the back of a jeep and swerves to avoid colliding with a fence, the car spins out of control and comes to rest in a ditch. He didn't miss the fence and my soda has flown across the car in protest.

"Is everyone okay?" The dick asks in a panic not becoming to the leader of the X-men or a dominant male of the pack.

I groan when I see the contents of my bag thrown across the backseat. I groan even louder when I undo my seat belt and crash to the floor landing on my head. "Shit." I moan gazing around. "We're upside down."

"Kid, you alright?"

"I don't think there's any broken bones or pieces of fence skewering my internal organs." I answer crawling to collect my snacks and dog treats. "I thought you knew how to drive Scott?"

Logan being the practical one kicks his foot through the widow and forces the door open. Cyclops meanwhile stays silent which is probably the best thing to do in the situation. I clamber over to Logan as he helps me out of the car and I sit on the side of the ditch. I'm probably going to get grass stains on the seat of my pants. But hey, I'm still alive to live, breath and whisper another day.

Without saying a word Wolverine grabs Scott by the collar and drags him out of the totalled car. "What the hell was that?" He snarls their noses almost touching.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." Scotty mutters looking downcast.

"You're a crap driver that's what happened." I reply in a blase manner. "It would have sucked to have died before I got to see Miami."

I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and gaze up at the two mutants. "What? Did I say something wrong?"


	9. Walking, Talking and Ultimatums

**_A huge, huge thanks to all those reviewing: Blitz182, Cad2u, JimandSteve, starlight2twilight, bologna121, alexmonalisa, ThelittleRogue, diamond aka fairy246, CurrentlyIncognito (What do you mean hang in there Logan!? LOL) and Veninitian Poker Face (Oh, he made it to the the funeral PMSL)_**

**_11.04.10: This has just been edited at 2am local time. Once again not a lot has changed. Just a few sentences here and there. Also a little dialog added. _**

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**Walking, Talking and Ultimatums**

"Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle and this'll help things turn out for the best. And always look on the bright side of life." I'm reduced to singing again as I perch on a conveniently placed log by the roadside. "Oh come on guys, smile." I plead to my poor company. "It could be worse."

"I don't see how." Scott sighs hands on his hips. "That is my favourite car with my favourite CD now stuck upside down in a ditch."

"Jesus, that was your favourite CD?" Logan mutters shaking his head and booting the car. "Hunk of junk."

"Logan, watch the paint work!"

"Um, Scott." I say suddenly worried for his sanity. "I don't think it would make a difference if we all kicked the car. Actually we could charge passers by a dollar to kick and release some pent up frustration and..." You know what that isn't a bad idea. I swear I'm seeing big fat dollar signs right in front of my eyes.

"Speakin' of dollars." Logan grunts climbing out of the ditch. "Cough up Kid."

I blow a bubble with my gum and slowly stand up ready to run at a seconds notice. "I could have died in that car wreck." I announce pointing at the car. "What if I develop post traumatic stress syndrome?"

"Quit tryin' to change the subject and give me the money."

"I might have to start saving for once of those expensive shrinks." Reaching deep into my jeans pocket, I show him the three ten dollar bills. "Lets call this atonement for the mental pressure that I've had to endure on this trip."

"Marie..." Logan stops short of a threat and cocks his head. "Can you hear that?" He asks Scott.

"Hear what?" Cyclops replies.

"Ringin'."

"The communicator!" Scott yells scrambling into the ditch and crawling into the car. "How could I have forgotten about the communicator."

"And you call yourself the leader of the X-men?" I mock with very good reason. "We're all doomed, doomed I say."

"Hello?" We watch the biggest Jackson fan to ever grace this planet grapple with the silver communicator. "Jubilee how did you... Why? Yes, she is. Can't you wait? " Scott hands the communicator to me looking awfully disenchanted. He should know by now that he can never win an argument with Jubes. She's the reigning champion of debates, feuds and disagreements. "Its for you."

I walk over to Scott and place the communicator to my ear. "Jubes?"

As soon as the communicator is placed to my ear Jubilee talks at one hundred miles an hour. I'm only praying that she doesn't die from lack of oxygen before I get the gossip. "Really? A strip poker tournament in the Rec room? Oh, she didn't. Did she electrocute him with a lightening bolt?" I just can't believe that I missed Gambit holding a poker tournament in the mansion. Apparently by the time that Storm... Uh, stormed into the room Kitty was already missing a vest top and Jubilee was sock-less. My friend then tells me that Storm had to go for a lie down and that someone wants to talk to me.

Please don't let it be Bobby, please don't let it be Bobby. "Salut ma Chere." Oh my God, its Gambit. I try not to squeal and decide to stretch my legs. This is one of those private conversations that I don't want to have in front of Logan or within earshot... Actually I should just skip across the state line.

"Hi." I squeak, sounding like I've just inhaled a skyscrapers worth of helium.

"Y'gonna grace Remy wit' your presence anytime soon?" He quizzes me, making my knees knock. "Remy be bored."

I come to rest at the side of the road and lean against a tree. "I doubt it." I groan, squinting in the sunlight. "Cyclops crashed the car. So you're going to have to find another way to amuse yourself."

"Merde. Dat be de homme wit' de shifty eyes?"

I giggle and shuffle my feet. "Yes. I suppose his eyes are a little shifty."

"Where y'at Chere? Remy's seen a bike wit' his name on it."

"You want to pick us up?"

"Non. Ol' Shifty eyes an' papa Wolverine can stay put. Gambit don' think dey belle enough for him." He announces sounding rather smug. "Dey will jus' embarrass demselves."

I flush a bittersweet shade of maroon and gaze at the ground. "That sounds..." The communicator is snatched out of my hand by a growling Logan who marches over to the road, drops the communicator onto the asphalt and crushes it under his boot with an almighty crunch. "Are you crazy!?" I demand marching over to him. "Remy was going to pick us all up!"

"He was gonna pick you up." Logan responds calmly seizing hold of my hood with one hand and rooting around in my pocket with the other. "This is my money Kid. You want your own, you work for it."

He pockets the thirty dollars with a grimace as I stand there fighting his steel like grip on my favourite green hooded sweatshirt. "Will you let go!" I cry indignantly.

"No." He grunts with a sharp look.

Great. Now what would Cesar Milan do in this position? The dominant male of the pack has caught you and refuses to let you go. So what would you do? You have a fair few choices. You can kick him, keep fighting, drain his ass or beg and plead.

I guess Wolverine is trying to teach me a lesson. "Stop your fightin' and yellin'. Then I let you go." Yes, I was right. All hail the brilliance of Marie D'Ancanto. I vote for either kicking him or fighting. The begging and pleading will make me look like a coward and draining his ass has to be the last resort. The last thing I want is another large dose of Grr-I'm-Gonna-Gut-You running around in my mind. I still haven't recovered from flirting with Jean.

"Where's the..." Scott strides up to us taking in the current situation and glances at the fragments of the crushed communicator. "You didn't... Tell me you didn't Logan."

Logan smirks and readjusts his grip on my beloved hooded sweatshirt. "We can walk."

"We're miles away from the nearest town." He groans. "And that was an expensive piece of equipment."

"There is no way that I'm walking." I grumble still thrashing and fighting. Nobody puts baby... Um, Rogue in a corner.

I wasn't born to be the submissive mutant. I need to be the pack leader and this is not helping my chances. My self confidence is also taking a battering. "We walk." Logan commands pulling me along with him as we begin our long journey on foot. Damn him.

* * *

We've all been walking for what seems like days but it's probably been only ten minutes or so. I've never liked walking. I think it stems from my time alone on the road. At least everyones silent, I don't know what I'd do if everybody starting talking out of pure awkwardness.

"Where you been sneakin' out to kid?" Logan demands to know from out of the blue. His adamantium laced fingers are still clutched tightly around my hood and it's almost cutting off my circulation. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. My breathing has yet to be disrupted... unfortunately.

I suddenly find the dusty road extremely interesting. "Hey, I asked you a question."

"We weren't doing anything illegal or sexual." I reply rather predictably and glancing over my shoulder.

"I don't care what the rest of those brats were doin'." He growls evenly. "What the hell were you doin'?"

"Being a teenager."

"You're already grounded Marie. You really wanna see how far you can push me?"

"What the hell is this supposed to prove!?" I shout my temper getting the better of me and still fighting against his grip.

"What do you think?" He asks me with an arched eyebrow and matching my glare.

"I think I owe you an apology Logan." Scott says with genuine regret walking at our side. "I have to say that I didn't think that you were guardian material."

Oh shoot me now. Please don't tell me that Cyclops and Wolverine are going to call a truce. "Shut it One eye." Thank you, there is a God.

"Yes, please shut up Scott. Especially if you've got nothing remotely interesting to add." I grumble under my breath.

"Sorry Rogue but you brought this on yourself."

Scott doesn't seem that sorry to me. "Me!?" I shriek jumping to my own defense. "I didn't do anything!"

"You've been sneaking out the mansion haven't you?" Cyclops counters shrewdly.

"That has nothing to do with you. Wolverine's just being his unreasonable self."

"I told you before. Stop fightin' and yellin' and I let you go." Logan informs me with a heavy sigh.

"You're just pissed because I was talking to Remy." I snap, ripping off my glove and snaking my fingers around his covered wrist. "Let me go now."

He stops walking and watches me carefully. "I mean it Logan, let me go before I drain your ass."

I don't really know what I'm doing. I think I just snapped and didn't think of the consequences of my actions. My conscience also doesn't sit well with me threatening the guy that saved my life and there is a Cesar Milan sounding voice in my head telling me to take control of the situation but stay calm and assertive. That is just my imagination though. I have most definitely not sucked the life out of The Dog Whisperer. Which is a crying shame because I could really use the help.

"You both need to calm down before this situation gets out of hand." Scott tells us worriedly.

"You really wanna do that Marie?" Logan questions me gruffly.

"I'm not bluffing Wolverine." I say coldly. "I'll do it."

"Go ahead." He growls glaring at me indifferently as I eye his bare hand.

My fingers hover inches from his skin as I weigh the pros and cons in my mind. If I do it Logan will go down like a sack of potatoes, Although I could kill him if I hold on too long. I'd be free to run off to Miami and I could even invite Remy along for the ride. But if I use my mutation against Logan he might not ever talk to me again and however much I dislike him at this moment I'm pretty fond of the lug head.

"Damn it." I whisper as my arm drops to my side. I can't do it. Yes, Logan is so far up his own ass he can tickle his own tonsils but he's family.

Without a word Wolverine starts walking again still not releasing me from his cruel grip. Oh, I will so pay him back one day for this.

* * *

I've stayed completely silent for the past ten minutes or so and have stopped fighting. I cannot believe that I 'm saying this but I've given in for the moment. My leader of the pack status is in tatters. It was a pipe dream. The sun is beginning to set and the deserted road we're traipsing down is... Well its deserted and my feet are really aching. I need a foot spa stat. I have never been so miserable in all my life... No, that's a lie. I was slightly more upset when I was kidnapped and thought that I was going to die. Still, my feet didn't hurt at the time did they.

Suddenly Logan's hand disappears from my hood and I'M FREE. Not that I'm excited of course. I quickly make my way to Scott's side instead and glare at Logan who is already lighting a cigar.

Scott has been really well behaved and I remember the dog treats that I stuffed in my sweatshirt pocket. I open the bag biting back the grin that is just begging to creep upon my face. "Here, try one of these." I say to Cyclops hiding the bag from his view. "They're new."

"Thanks Rogue." He answers politely, taking a treat from the bag, gazing at it and then biting into it gingerly.

"That's pretty tasty. Did you say they were new?"

"Yep." I reply still suppressing a grin. I'm finding it harder then I expected because Scott Summers is eating a dog treat! "This pack is chicken flavour."

"I bet Jean will like those." He tells me with a smile. "I'll have to buy her a pack." Um, I really don't think that Jean will take a liking to the dog treats. So I just keep quiet.

"Do you want one Logan?" I ask the resident asshole.

Logan glances at me and puffs on his cigar. I think I may have hurt his feelings when I threatened to drain his ass with my mutation. "I take it that's a no?" And still there is no answer.

I might as well turn my attention back to Scott, he deserves all the praise at the moment. "Have another one."

"I don't mind if I do." Scott says seemingly pleased. "I have to say Rogue that your change in attitude is refreshing." This is one of those times where I would really like to laugh my ass off but it wouldn't be appropriate and would probably give the game away.

"Why thank you Scotty." I reply happily. "Would you like another?" That compliment deserves another treat doesn't it? Yes, of course it does.

Cyclops greedily eats his third chicken flavoured treat as I try to strike up a conversation. "Jean told me you went to Miami for spring break?"

"Yes we did." He responds scratching his chin. "I remember it well, I got sun burnt."

"Where did you get burnt?"

"I'd rather not say." Scott mutters his jaw twitching. Now that is a hilarious piece of gossip. I can't wait to tell Jubilee and it reminds me to pack plenty of sun cream. Even if I can't run around butt naked, you can't be to careful can you.

"Have two more." I urge him feeling naughty. He munches happily on treats four and five. Ah, I think I deserve a pat on the back for a job well done.

Cyclops unexpectedly stops walking and appears aghast. Shit, I haven't been found out have I?

"I... I don't think I locked the car." Scott proclaims anxiously. "I hope no one tries to steal it."

* * *

**_So there you have it, the new chapter! I even included a bit of Gambit for all you Romy lovers. It was the best I could do, seeing as he wasn't there in person. I also included lyrics to Monty Python song Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life. Everyone that has never heard it in full should check it out on You Tube. Except those of you that take your religion seriously :) _**

**_And I always say that I hate Scott but I'm actually starting to like him in this chapter. Maybe its because he's eating all those yummy dog treats ;) That and he's ever so worried about his car getting stolen when its lying upside down in a ditch LOL_**

**_As usual let me know what you're thinking :)_**


	10. Dirty Diana, Bono and a Cajun

**_12.04.10 - Edited. Edited. Edited. _**

**Dirty Diana, Bono and A Cajun**

I some times wonder if I was dropped on the head as a baby. There has to be a reason why I'm acting this way. I know that positive thinking is the key to success, inspiring a Wolverine to become calm and submissive is a hell of a job but someone has to do it. I'm trying so hard not to feel guilty about the threat I issued to Logan and I know that guilt is considered a weakness in the animal world. In the real world guilt is a pain in the ass, it eats away at you until you have to seek forgiveness if only to stop you losing your mind completely. Can the leader of the pack apologize and show her weakness? An act like that would only destroy the Wolverine Whisperer's street credibility. If you dare ask Jubilee she will tell you that 'Street Cred' is everything, if you don't have then you're a nobody.

We are sitting in a bar on the outskirts of a small town and I'm lying down in the booth absolutely dead to the world. My feet have blisters the size of Mississippi and I'm dying of thirst. Oh and I'm hungry too, very, very hungry. Logan is not talking to me and Scott has been playing back to back Michael Jackson songs on the jukebox for the past hour. Apart from that my life is all rainbows, cute puppy dogs and cotton tailed bunnies.

"I've managed to contact Jean. Thankfully she's going to pick us up." Scott announces sitting beside Logan at the bar and ordering a soda.

"This is a bar One Eye" Logan says watching Scott taps his foot to his chosen music as he thanks the barmaid for the drink.

"Are you trying to insinuate something Logan?"

"Yeah, you're a dick" Oh and here we go again.

I roll out of the booth and head over to the two quarreling idiots at the bar. "This is madness." Cyclops scoffs waving his finger dangerously in Logan's face which surely means its in danger of being bitten off. I lean against the bar and cock my head to the side clearing my throat.

"I'm the leader of the X men and if I Scott Summers chose to drink soda instead of beer, I believe that should be applauded and not scorned upon."

With little else to do except watch the unfolding drama I put my hands together and applaud the magnificent Scott 'Stick Up His Ass' Summers and his crowd pleasing speech. Well, it has sure impressed one lady who is smiling this way. Jesus, she must have a thing for geeks and there was me thinking that Jean was one of a kind.

Logan seems unfazed at Scott's outburst and only shakes his head. He nurses his beer with one hand and the other hand is creeping slowly towards the free offering of stale peanuts; as a cigar hangs loosely from his lips. Who said men and their brains were unable to process more than one thought at a time? Logan is living proof that men are just as capable as women.

"Why thank you Rogue. Its nice to know that someone else agrees." Scott smiles slightly and sips his ice cold soda. I guess it's hard to fully understand the concept of sarcastic applauding.

I turn to the bar and attempt to gain the barmaids attention, which seems to be futile at this moment in time. The stupid blond air head is too busy flirting with one of the regulars. But then something happens that shatters all illusions of women being the smarter of the two sexes. The smiling lady appears at Scott's side and taps him on the shoulder. "Hi, my name is Diana" She introduces herself to the bewildered Scott as I snigger at his side. Logan only raises an eyebrow, shakes his head once more and returns to drinking his beer.

"Oh how cute." I coo pinching Scott's cheek with my gloved hand. "You've bagged yourself your own dirty Diana"

A dumbstruck looking Scott shuffles his feet and looks extremely uncomfortable. "Are you saying that I'm dirty?" The frowning lady named Diana demands.

"If the shoe fits, yes." Honestly, sometimes I say these words without my brain engaging fully with my mouth but I can't help it if I'm on team Jean.

"What she meant was..." Scott's effort at calming the escalating situation falls on deaf ears.

"I know what she meant" Dirty Diana snarls.

"Then turn around and walk away. Go find another man to sink your claws into"

"I really don't think..."

"Shut up Scott." I hiss. When will he realize that I'm only doing what I think is best for him and Jean.

"Rogue..." He sighs

"Shh" One use of a Cesar Milan special and Cyclops shuts his trap. I don't think that 'The One Eye Whisper' has the same ring to it though. Even if it would be so much easier to tame a Cyclops.

"Listen here little girl, I don't know who you think you are but you are sadly mistaken if you think that I'm going to..." Did she call me little girl?

"Ugh" I groan with a roll of my eyes. "When are you going to face facts and understand that women your age shouldn't be caught dead wearing fish net stockings. You also don't have the figure to pull off that skirt and Slim here is already taken by a very good friend of mine. So, either Hugh Hefner won't feature your wrinkly butt in the Playboy magazines anymore or... Eek."

I'm pulled non to gently I might add to Logan's side. "Sit" He orders pointing at an empty stool and waving the barmaid over. "Beer" He tells her never uttering the word please.

"Would it have killed you to say please." I inform him with a glare and sitting down. "It's only a word... Hey, keep your hands to yourself!" I yell at that damn lady who is almost accosting Scott with her overly friendly hands in full view of all the patrons. "I've already told you, he's already taken Dirty Diana!"

"Stop calling me that!"

"What Dirty Diana?" I ask feigning ignorance. "Don't you like the name Dirty Diana? I think that it suits you down to the ground. A name like that often chooses a person. You look a little red in the face am I upsetting you? Oh I am? How about I call you D.D instead? Its still close to Dirty Diana but not so close as to offend. You do understand don't you D.D?"

"I have had enough!" D.D screams stamping her foot and pouring her Margarita over a startled Scott. "You people are crazy!"

I watch her storm away in a major hissy fit and glance at Logan and Scott. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I question them both, helping myself to a peanut. "That had nothing to do with me. I guess some people are just not Micheal Jackson fans."

* * *

"What is taking Jean so long?" Scott complains having almost dried off from his unscheduled Margarita shower.

"Stuck in traffic maybe?" I reply flicking a peanut off of the bar and observing it hit a ruthless and shady looking man between the eyes. I immediately swing around in my stool and whistle innocently as the man approaches with a heavy scowl.

"No, there's no traffic in the sky. She said she would take the X-jet and... can I help you sir?" Scott asks the unhappy man.

"Yeah, I think you can. Why are you wearing those freaky looking glasses?"

Uh oh, I think we have a mutant hater in our midst. Come on Marie, think fast. "Bono!" I shriek making the man jump. I seem to have a habit of startling people when I decide to intervene.

"Bono?" Then man repeats skeptically. "As in that Irish guy from that Irish band?"

"Yes, Bono as in that Irish guy from that Irish band. Uh, you see Scott here has sensitive eyes just like Bono and that's why he wears those freaky looking glasses. He's a huge fan"

"Oh, I see. Then why does he keep playing that shit music?"

"Did you just insult the greatness that is the King of pop?" Scott responds standing to his feet and his balled fists held tightly in the mans face. "Micheal Jackson can sing and dance like no other on this earth. So I would like you to apologize for your slanderous remark." Jeez, I always thought that the MJ fans of this world were slightly nuts but Scott is as mad as a box of frogs.

"Fine buddy, whatever you say." The man replies holding up his hands and backing away slowly. "Just quit throwing peanuts at us. okay?"

"That man is obviously mentally unstable." Scott tells me. Yeah, Scott and I'm sure that the man is thinking that exact same concern about you judging by the looks he keeps throwing this way.

"What was that about? Logan asks us gruffly, returning from the restroom.

"Nothing." Cyclops grumbles ordering himself a shot of whiskey.

* * *

Three hours have crawled by and we're still waiting on Jean to rescue us from our predicament. Logan is drinking his fifty sixth beer, Scott is asking for his twenty second whiskey shot and I'm still flicking peanuts across the bar in utter boredom. Cyclops rubs his stomach and grimaces. "I must have eaten something that doesn't agree with me."

I almost choke on my tongue and the shot I was lining up misfires and the peanut flies into the path of the man again. Um, oops. Scott ate all three bags of the dog treats, chicken, liver and onion and bacon. Now he complains that the treats he happily ate are giving him a tummy ache. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

"I told you to stop throwing peanuts Bono."

"No, I think you're mistaken my name isn't Bono..." Scott this is really not the time to be arguing over such trivial matters. Honestly, men.

"I don't care what your name is" The man snaps cracking his knuckles and his friends surround Scott.

"You got a problem Bub?" Logan growls stepping forward and looking every bit as intimidating as his name sake.

"Yeah your friend here seems to have a _problem_ with us."

"Me? No I have no problem with you at all." Scott replies calmly, attempting to pacify the situation. "You're the one with a apparent dislike of my musical taste and that really makes no sense at all. Have you ever listened to Thriller? Please just honestly answer the question and let me know if you've ever listened to that song without wanting to dance."

"We don't like loonies in this bar." The man divulges placing a hand on Scott's arm. "And that song sucks."

"That song is a classic!"

Cyclops thumps the man in the face and he falls to the ground blood gushing from his broken nose. His friends leap on Scott and Logan jumps in as the music stops and the bar descends into chaos. I rush to the exit avoiding the sailing chairs zipping past my ear, drunken males fighting over who is going to take Dirty Diana home with them and the barmaid waving a suspiciously looking loaded shot gun above her head as she wails like a banshee. You can't take Scott or Logan anywhere without them causing trouble.

I stagger out into the street and lean against the wall gazing up at the stars and the full moon. At least they picked a nice night to get arrested I think to myself when I spot a police car screech to a halt. An armed cop runs into the bar as a man is thrown clean through the window and lands on the deserted street in a groaning heap.

"What on earth?" A shocked voice says over the ruckus.

"Hi Jean" I greet waving at the red head as she glancing at the unconscious man in the road.

"What happened Rogue?"

"Scott and a guy had a disagreement over Bono, peanuts and Thriller" I sigh, keeping the guilty edge out of my voice.

"He did? That doesn't sound like Scott at all." She replies appearing confused at her husbands sudden change in character. "You wait here and I'll be right back" Jean walks through the saloon doors in search of her delinquent husband and the ever happy to fight Wolverine.

"Psst, Chere." I look around my surroundings for the source of that familiar voice and spot Gambit across the street cigarette in hand and wearing his brown trench coat.

"What are you doing here Remy?" I ask as another almighty crash shakes the foundations of the building.

"A bit of dis an' dat." He smirks beckoning me over to him. I cross the street and gaze into his eyes as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Remy hears y'wanna hit Miami"

"Yeah, me, Jubes and Kitty want to go for Spring break"

"Remy's been to Miami Chere. It's full o'thievin' bastards an' de like. Y'ever been to New Orleans?"

"No. Why?" I reply suspiciously. I'm slightly disappointed that Remy has that view on Miami. I was hoping that he would have liked to have come with us, strictly as friends of course.

"Y'wanna go?" He asks his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Mardi Gras starts soon an' dats a real party"

"When?"

"No time like de present Chere. C'mon Remy be feelin' homesick for some southern food"

I link arms with Gambit and we disappear around the corner further away from the clutches of the X men and the sounds of the police sirens in the night. I might not ever find my way to Miami but a New Orleans during a Mardi Gras parade sounds just as enjoyable and ever so entertaining. Add to the fact that I have a handsome twenty one year old man on my arm and Jubilee is going to be so jealous. Ha, she will be green with envy. Cesar Milan can get stuffed for the moment because its high time Rogue let her hair down and had some much needed fun. Especially without the rules, regulations and the constant telling offs. The people of New Orleans had better watch out because Mardi Gras here we come!


	11. Brooding, Musings and Feral Fury

**_A very heart felt thanks to all those that have reviewed and made my day: DejectedBlithe, grumpypirate, Onewishmakeitcount, JimandSteve, ThelittleRogue, bologna121, paranormallover, Starlight2Twilight, MilleniumHeart794, Sofimac16, alexmonalisa (Get well soon), Avid fanficreader and Nagaku Tsuzuku Yami :) Also a thanks to those adding this fic to their faves, you know who you are!_**

**_And a HUGE thank you to my new beta, IcedBlaze. Honestly, you are a life saver :)_**

**_Now, this chapter has switched P.O.V. I thought it was about high time we heard from a certain feral mutant, especially since Logan and Scott are so much fun together. LOL_**

**_12.04.10 - Another very quick edit. _**

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**Brooding, Musings and Feral Fury**

What the hell was she thinking? She wasn't thinking, that was the problem. Why did she never think about the consequences? How many times do I have to tell her to think before she acts? She was ordinarily a good kid…a kid with a smart mouth, but a good kid, _my_ kid. She was just a young slip of a girl that I had promised to look after, so the thought of throttling her until her brains rattled and I shook the stupidity from her mind would have to take a back seat for now.

I'm going to kill that Cajun man whore; I warned him to keep his hands to his _goddamn_ self and that smirking asshole hadn't taken me seriously. Now Gambit and the Kid were God knows where, doing God knows what. Sure, Ro' would probably shoot a lightening bolt up my ass for gutting her Gumbo friend, but he had it coming anyway. But Marie, she was an entirely different story.

One Eye and I have been rotting our asses off in separate cells for the past twelve hours in the local jail. Jeanie and the Professor were trying to get us released, bailed out or whatever, and I was thinking that when I got my hands on Marie, she was going to wish that she had never been born. Not that I could lay a finger on her, her mutation would see to that, but that was beside the point.  
The Kid had no idea how much trouble she was in. Hell, she thought she was going to be grounded indefinitely, well forget that, I'm going to chain her to the bed and lock her in her room for the rest of her life. She'll be cleaning every bathroom in the mansion with a toothbrush, damn it. Early morning Danger Room sessions for the next five years—I would cancel her birthday and ban her from ever setting foot in the mall ever again. Maybe then she would think twice before starting a bar fight, having my metal ancient ass thrown in the slammer and then running off with a guy she hardly even damn well knew.

Okay, Summers wasn't completely innocent in the brawl. It was probably the dog food the Kid kept feeding him, that had to mess with the brain. Yeah I know, I ain't stupid. Who gets into a fight over music anyway? Hell, I had been on the other guys' side; Cyke had a crap taste in everything except motorcycles and women. Jean's gorgeous, beautiful—what I wouldn't give to have her in my bed. No, I can't afford to think about that now, I needed to find the damn Kid and make sure that she was safe. Rogue was going to be the death of me, forget about my healing factor, I was going to be driven into an early grave.

Why had I agreed to become her guardian? It made absolutely no sense to me at all. Why hadn't I just left her skinny lonesome ass on the road? She had sat beside me in my camper-van, sassed me and wormed her way into my heart within minutes. I wasn't good with kids, I couldn't get away fast enough from the screeching moms and their screaming brats. I would have rather cut off my own balls, sat through _The sound of Music_ every day for the rest of my unnaturally long life, dressed up as a God damn nun and sang along for all to hear then have my own kids. Yet, here I was, worrying myself stupid over Marie.

She knew right from wrong, her parents turned out to be pretty crappy in the end, but they taught her the basics; I could give them that. So why had she done it? Why had she taken off without a seconds thought? We had had an argument, a very one sided argument, and she had to be a God damn teen with a large chip on her shoulder. Damn hormones, that was what it was, and even the badass that's my inner Wolverine couldn't fight and win against those damn female hormones. Shit, what the hell have I got myself into?

The Kid had been acting weird this past week or so, weirder than usual. All girls I noticed acted strange at that age and Marie, she was hiding something from me. Writing crap down in that journal of hers, watching and sneaking looks at me when she thought I wasn't looking and she even kicked me in the shin. I had heard her and that yellow friend of hers chatting across the dining room table that night. I knew about the bag hidden under that Pryde girl's bed; I was waiting for the Kid to make her move. She had two choices: she was either going to try and sneak out with those damn friends or she would listen to me.

Who the hell was I kidding? I was screwed big time. One cute, brown eyed little southern girl had me wrapped tightly around her little finger and I had no chance, no chance at all.

The sound of approaching footsteps, a jangling set of keys, and a familiar scent snaps me out of my thoughts. The cell door is thrown open and a frowning Scott is shoved roughly into my cramped cell before his handcuffs are removed. "We're overcrowded; you fellas are gunna have to share." The grossly overweight, mustached cop smirks and closes the door behind him.

Oh yeah, forget about any promises I had ever made, the Kid was dead.

* * *

"How about a nice clean, fun game of eye spy?" This is hell, I have been sent to hell in a handcart with only this pansy ass for company. If I believed in past lives and shit, I would say that my ass is definitely being punished. "Not a fan of that game then, I see. How about we complete the Michael Jackson lyrics? It goes down a storm at dinner parties."

I kick my legs up and lean backwards against the wall on the bed, crossing my arms over my chest and I sigh heavily. "Don't tell me that you're not a Michael Jackson fan, Logan?" Scooter complains, pacing the confines of our joint cell.

"Do I look like the type of guy that worships the ground some nutty musician walks on?" I grumble, glaring at the graffiti covered walls and attempting to ignore the overpowering scent of stale piss.

"You shouldn't judge him..." One Eye bends over, clutching his stomach and never finishes his pathetic excuse of a lecture, thankfully. How the hell did he survive living to the ripe old age of thirty two? Why does Jean put up with him? I could make her happier.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" I demand, arching my eyebrow and watching him crawl on his hands and knees across the concrete floor.

"Stomach cramps." He hisses as my lips twitch and I bite back the urge to laugh my ass off. That is, until I catch a scent that would surely kill an Ox within one hundred paces.

"Jesus Christ, what died in here?"

"I believe that would be me, oh dear." Scooter groans, heaving himself onto the can and unbuckling his belt.

"No, no way Summers! Keep your damn pants on!" This is not happening, this is not happening, Marie is in for a world of pain.

* * *

This is not amusing any longer, not that I ever found this situation amusing in the slightest to begin with. One Eye has been on and off the throne for the past hour and holy shit, how much crap can one man hold in his...

"I need to lie down." Summers moans, massaging his gut and clambering slowly onto the bed. "It must have been the Whiskey, liquor always gives me gas."

"It was the dog food!" I snarl, kicking the cell door. "The Kid fed you dog food, for cryin' out loud!"

He looks shocked for thirty seconds or so then pulls himself together. "Rogue said they were snacks, I'm going to kill her!"

"Yeah, well, get in line One Eye." I growl, punching the wall in fury and gazing at my grazed fist healing before my eyes. "They've had a fourteen hour head start, dammit."

"I'm sure that Gambit has taken her back to the mansion." Cyke sighs, lounging on the hard-as-hell bed. I'm just worrying about nothing; the Kid is probably tucked up in bed, alone in her own room, sleeping the day away. "But he does have a sharp eye for the ladies. Storm says that he has a thing for expensive hotel rooms; I suppose all thieves are the same. I wouldn't even contemplate splitting a hair over this though, if I was you.

Gambit is a thief? Why in the hell is Ro' friends with a thief? My shit list is growing longer by the second and my claws are itching to stab and shred somebody, anybody. I have become domesticated and I'm living with a bunch of geeks, I'm going soft. I _am_ soft and it's all that goddamn kid's fault. If her ass isn't at that mansion, far away from that Cajun, I'm going to skin them both alive and I sure as hell won't be holding back.


	12. Lockpicks, Flirting and Southern Soul

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Finally having got around to writing this chapter, I can now post! Thanks to everyone reviewing, and adding this fic to their alerts, favourites. Especially starlight2twilight, AngelicTears, alexmonalisa, JimandSteve, Auua Ytjoml, bologna121, grumpypirate, luvdatman, Avid fanfic reader, Soon2Bme and Aemrynna.

Thanks to my lovely beta Icey Ice! ;)

Anyway, another pretty short chapter. Rogue and Gambit all the way, I thought I would tease you with the length! LOL

12.04.10 - I've just read through this and I don't think it needs any editing. That probably has more to do with the brilliant beta I had, then me. LOL

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Lock Picks, Flirting and Southern Soul

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Meanwhile, twenty miles south of the incarcerated, bickering Wolverine and Cyclops...

"You should've listened to me Gambit, I told you it was a stupid idea." I scold, screwing my face into a downright scary impression of my mother, who always liked to nitpick, especially when the situation didn't call for it. I remember that I once met her uncle; he was dressed in leather chaps and an enormous weathered cowboy hat. He was a drunken country singer who toured the southern states and sometimes dressed in stockings... Maybe this isn't the right time to be dragging my family affairs into the open, all you need to know is that my Mama wasn't happy and, following down her path of quibbling over the finer details, neither am I.

"Y' jus' don' listen _fille_, only Gambit's enemies call Gambit, uh... Gambit." He tells me, searching relentlessly through the many pockets of his trench coat. "An' enemies don' have all de curves in all de right places."

I almost swallow my tongue as his eyes focus solely on my womanly curves. According to Jubilee, I have birthing hips, but I couldn't give a rat's ass. Since my freefall into puberty, I have earned more heated looks than a party of topless Playboy bunnies, sunbathing on a nudist stretch of golden sand.

I have to stop myself twirling on the spot and giving him a real show. One that you would only witness on an x-rated blue movie, an adult movie, they show them all the time on cable after midnight. Not that an innocent, naive girl like me would be watching a such a program, nooo, especially not with a bowl of popcorn, a can of diet coke and her best friend by her side. Nope, never happened, not even when the teachers went out for the night and all returned inebriated.

His voice punctures my walk down memory lane, and I glance at him, replacing my serene mask with a scowl. "You're definitely de type of girl dat Remy would like t'get t'know better."

"If you don't get us out of here, we'll be enemies Gambit!" I shriek, stamping my foot. "And stop talking in third person, you sound like a mentally defective Cajun who has the looks but can't follow through because he talks like a moron!"

I blush at my outburst, my eyes darting away from his seemingly satisfied smirk. "Jus' have some patience, _petite_. We'll be outta' here quicker dan y'can say, _Oui _Remy I would love t'go on a date wit' you."

Leaning against the brick wall and huffing impatiently, I observe him getting down to business. "Where did you hide that?" I ask, surprised to see him produce a gleaming metal lock pick.

"Y' don' wanna know."

He crouches down, his knees hitting the ground as he struggles to get a preferred view of the lock. "This is all your fault."

"Y' already said dat." Remy replies, cursing to himself. "Dis' lock's got a mind of its own." He adds, scratching his chin with a free finger.

"You're insane." I groan, folding my arms. "Yet, charming."

"Dat' too."

"I'm going to kill you."

"An' dat'." He sighs, glancing at me with a look of sheer dispassion. "Y' jus' repeatin' yourself _Chere_."

Men, why are men such fools? Why can't they act more like women? The world would certainly be a greater, more sophisticated and tranquil place to live. "Stop looking at me and hurry up!" I shout, hastily losing what was left of my short temper. Despite my warning, he throws me a cheeky wink, continuing to stare.

Pushing myself away from the wall and, in reach of spitting distant, I slap Gambit hard across the face with a gloved hand. "Snap out of it, will you!"

"_Merde_!" Gambit cries, the lock pick flying out his hand. He lands on the ground with a heavy _thump _and his eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Dat was my last lock pick!"

My eyes follow his path of vision and I begin to panic. "Don't just sit there, do something."

We both eyeball the liberated lock pick, it has fallen through the bars and is out of reach, even Gambit's extensive monkey's arms have been defeated.

"Y' really need t' control dat temper of yours, Rogue." I gaze at Gambit, not only is that the first time that he has called me by my mutant name, but he's smiling.

"Oh that's great, just great. Yeah, you carry on smiling." I chide, practically turning into a female Scott Summers before his very eyes. "Have you any idea how much trouble I'm going to be in?"

"Y' beautiful when you're angry, _Chere_."

"GAMBIT!" I have started to pace, my hands resting on my hips. There has to be a way out of here without the use of a lock pick. "You got us into this mess, now get us out of it."

"Y' only had t' ask, but y' missin' somethin'." He teases, producing a stack of cards from his pocket and shuffling them.

"I'm not saying please."

"_Non_, I was waitin' for my thank y' kiss."

I stop my relentless pacing and pin him with a hateful glare. "You want a kiss? A kiss!?" I snarl, throwing my arms in the air. "Listen to me Swamp Rat, I could kill you with one touch! And you just want me to kiss you?"

"_Oui_." Remy responds, standing to his feet.

"Are you suicidal?"

"_Non_, not dat I know of, jus' feelin' drunk under de spell of a beautiful woman."

"Oh Remy, that was awful, does anyone actually fall for that?" I ask, dreading the suffering he could potentially release on the poor, unsuspecting women of the world.

He holds a hand up in mock defeat and waves the playing cards in front of my button nose. "I have it all under control, y' can save de kiss fo' later."

The cards in his hand begin to glow, it's as if he has the power to charge objects with a mere touch. Slightly startled, I gaze into his eyes and notice that they have changed colour. They are now burning a fiery, ruby red, opposed to the natural chocolate Hershey kisses. Great, and now I'm thinking about making out, sucking his face and heavy petting. Throwing the glowing cards into the corner of the room, he turns to me and beams.

"Time t' duck." As the words leave his mouth, the room is thrown into a glorious, blinding flash of light. Remy dives to the floor, with me safely tucked in his arms and a rumbling _boom _causes me to hold onto him for dear life. I squeeze my eyes shut, the sounds of falling debris surrounding us. "_Chere_?" He says, huskily whispering into my ear. "Y' can let go now, not dat I'm complainin' o'course."

I lift my head up and attempt to blink away the white dots that are clouding my vision, dancing the rumba, and driving me to distraction. "You can blow stuff up." I state, observing the hole in the wall and the sea of bricks, mortar, and dust.

"We need t' leave _Chere_, c'mon."

Remy pulls me to my feet and wraps an arm around my shoulder, leading me through our escape route. "See, Remy can do good."

I glance over my shoulder at the devastation we are leaving in the aftermath of our visit. I can't help but smirk at his care free attitude. "Okay, I apologize. But for the record, next time I suggest that it's a bad idea to steal a police car, I hope you'll listen."

"It ain't my fault, de cop shouldn't have left de door unlocked. Anyone could come along an' help demselves." He argues, giving me a pointed look.

"He was still in the car, Remy!" I remind him, remembering the angry cop we were confronted with.

"Well, de attitude was uncalled for." He snorts, highly amused. "People like dat give us southerners a bad name."

"What did you expect him to do?"

"Not arrest us, take our mugshots, an' charge us with kidnappin' an officer of de law, an' auto theft."

My smile runs for cover as Remy stops beside a gorgeous, slim lined sports car, painted red. "I like red." He responds to my questioning gaze. "Ain't got any lock picks, so..." I watch him pick up a large rock, and smash the side window. "Dat was a sin, Remy is definitely goin' t' hell."

I hear shouts from the partly destroyed jail house, heavy footsteps and furious jeers as I jump in the car next to Gambit. "They're coming and they sound pissed. It might have something to do with you blowing our cell sky high." I reprimand him, prodding his shoulder and silently urging him on.

He works quickly with the mass of wires, not at all troubled over the approaching cops who have taser guns and actual hand guns with bullets at the ready.

"Remy." I whine, fidgeting in my seat. "We're going to be in front of a judge tomorrow morning if you don't hurry."

A spark courtesy of the wires, a rambunctious cheer from Remy and I sigh in relief. "Hold onto y' seat _Chere_, we're outta' here."

He puts his foot down and the engine roars to life, the smell of the screeching rubber tires tickling my nose. I slip on my seatbelt and yell at him for showing off.

"It's in de blood." He replies, waving at the enraged cops. "_Au_ _revoir_." Skillfully revving the engine, he leaves them with a mouthful of dust and dirt.

I exhale sharply; I didn't realize that I was holding my breath. I can't help but wonder what Logan is going to do to me. I've been the accessory in two automobile thefts, an accidental police kidnapping, I have gotten myself arrested, helped blow up the town's only jail for miles, and then escaped police custody with Remy, only to have re-offended within minutes... And that's only today, what about starting the bar fight and running away with Remy? My life is over as I know it; I'm going to have to dye my hair, change my name and go into hiding until this has all blown over. That could take years, knowing Wolverine's temper and hatred of all males that take a liking to me, he will be hunting us down and it will not take him long to find us, if we keep leaving tracks, and witnesses. But I wouldn't turn back the time and do anything differently, because this is a real life, honest to God adventure, and it has only just begun.

"About Remy's kiss..."


	13. Pillows, Perverts and Pretty Postcards

_**Thanks to all those that have reviewed: Soon2Bme, Starlight2Twilight, sofimac16, grumpypirate, bologna121, Jedgirl330, JimandSteve, rockout1, Yuki, Mcloving greys, and capricia :) Also a cheers directed to those people that have added this fic to their favourites!**_

_**This has taken me a while to write, pesky writers block. So please let me know what you think ;)**_

_**12.04.10 - And the last chapter has been edited, thank God. I can finally start on a new chapter. I've been plagued by Gambit/Rogue plot bunnies since the new year. A quick trip to the corner shop and I might be able to find buy a certain kind of liquified inspiration for myself. LOL **_

* * *

**Pillows, Perverts and Pretty Picture Perfect Postcards**

"_Chere_, Remy's gonna crash de _magnifique_ sports car, if de pretty _fille_ don' get her head outta his lap."

"Mmm five more minutes." I groan, my eyes still closed as I drift in and out of consciousness.

An overly long, drawn out journey to New Orleans in a stolen car while running from the cops and the X-men can really tire you out... I'm living proof.

"Normally I would oblige, but Remy's lil' Remy is close t'standin' t'attention. It be insanity t'drive under dis condition."

My comfortable, yet slightly bulging pillow moves and I growl in annoyance. What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here? "Stop it, I'm trying to sleep, keep still."

"_Merde_, now she be moanin'." My now-hard pillow hisses. "Your Papa's gonna' castrate me for dis, I'll never be able t'play strip poker again."

"Stop poking me!" I demand groggily, shifting my head and attempting to avoid the pressure against my cheek.

"Remy can't help it, _Chere_."

I crack an eye open and gasp in horror when I realize just where my head happens to be resting. "GAMBIT!" I shriek in utter embarrassment, jumping up and scrambling away from him. I'm trying so hard not to stare openly at his pants and here I am, still gawking at his crotch. Stop it Rogue! You look desperate, don't act like a girl that has never been on the receiving end of an erection before. Wait, I haven't been on the receiving end of an erection before.

Oh my God, he's excited and I'm a pervert.

"Y'can't blame me, you're de one dat kept groanin' an' moanin'." He defends, wiggling his eyebrows. "Y'want me t'rub my head full o'long flowin' locks in your lap an' see if y'don' react de same?"

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. Trying to impersonate Logan when he's pissed off. I don't miss Remy's pitiful look, now that his view of my breasts has been hindered. He's acting like a bitch on heat or a less dominant male with sex on his mind.

"You should have woken me up."

"What? An' let y'miss out on Remy Etienne LeBeau's most important..."

I gape at the guy I'm sitting beside, wiping the sleep out of my bloodshot eyes. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence." I sigh, glancing out of the window and not thinking about Remy's little friend...I wonder if it is little? No, Rogue don't go there girl.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Stormy would fry me. Imagine dat, a handsome _homme_ like _moi_ struck by lightening an'..." Remy whistles and waves his free hand about like a crack addled drug fiend. "_Merde_, I be dead."

"What about claws?" I ask smugly, cocking an eyebrow and imagining my executioner's thoughts on our budding relationship. Okay, I'm no longer smiling. This might be my last few days on this earth, so I might as well make the most of the time I have left. I need to keep smiling; Bobby always says that I have a beautiful smile. I'm starting to think that the Ice man has a little thing for me.

Looking thoroughly perplexed, he gazes at me. "Y'often meet people wit claws?

He doesn't seem to know about Logan's mutation and I'm actually starting to feel sorry for him. Those claws hurt; I've been on the receiving end before... even if it was accidental. That's what happens in life, you try and do a good deed and you get stabbed through the chest, courtesy of an idiot with claws. The motto of my little tale of woe is: never go out of your way to help others or you never know, you could get clawed for it.

"No, only one person so far. You've met him twice." I hint, watching him mull the information over. Come on Remy, there must be a brain in that head of yours somewhere.

"Him!?" Remy squeaks, sounding as though he's a poor church mouse being hounded by a fat ginger cat.

"Are you jealous?" I scoff, feeling rather confident now that the dynamics have shifted in our relationship. The girl should always be on top... Crap and now I'm blushing.

"_Non_... _Zut alors_, look we be here."

I crane my neck, and yelp when Remy drives into a wooded area, overgrown with shrubbery, weeds, and God knows what else. It's now dawning on me that I'm alone with a guy that I have only known for a day. He might be Storm's friend, but he's not mine yet. I just need to keep cool; there is probably a completely innocent reason for this.

"Y'need t'touch Remy, _Chere_." Casanova announces while I check my temperature and wonder if I'm coming down with something. I must have the flu; I thought for a second that Gambit had asked me to touch him.

"I'm sorry?" I whisper, my pulse racing and my palms beginning to sweat. "Did you just say what I, uh thought you said?"

"_Oui,_ touch me." Remy hold out his hand and gazes at me. "Stormy told me about y'mutation Rogue. De Professor can't find me wit' dat crazy machine o'his. An' if y'touch me..."

"I'll probably kill you and the Professor won't be able to find either of us." I finish for him, sarcastically. When did Storm join the realms of gossip first and think about a person's feelings later?

He sighs, raises an eyebrow, and opens the car door. "Think about it, if de Professor can't find you, neither can y'papa."

I'm probably going to regret this but what the hell; I've had a great innings. You only live once and I would be more than happy to touch him, who cares about my mutation? Yikes, I want to touch Gambit and please don't tell Logan that I said that.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"We be dumpin' de car an' findin' a bed for de both of us."The charming Cajun announces, disappearing into the trees.

"You're insane." I reply, throwing open the door and following closely behind him. "Wait for me, you idiot!"

* * *

"Do you even know where we're going?" I sigh tiredly; I've had enough of walking long distances. My feet are close to going on strike, and I think my blisters have blisters… then those blisters have grand-babies and so on and so forth.

"_Oui_, Remy's brain acts like a compass."

"Really?"

"_Non_." He replies, smirking to himself. "Jus' followin' de road until we get somewhere."

I have always heard that women were the ones that were dreadful with directions or geography, but the men in my life... they know diddly squat about anything other than beer, kicking ass and charming the pants off a lady.

I wonder if Logan is worried? I wouldn't have thought so, the gruff Wolverine wouldn't care if I vanished into thin air, reappeared on the Jerry Springer show dressed as a hooker and spent the entire episode fighting over my drugged up ex-boyfriend, who has slept with his cousin and she is now pregnant with sextuplets.

How could you not love Jerry Springer?

I'll have to send Logan something, just in case he's a little worried about me. "We need to find a general store." I tell Gambit, staring straight ahead at the barren open landscape.

"Sure."

"Do you have any money?" I ask, remembering that the thirty dollars I had was taken off of me by a dominant male with an anger management problem.

"_Oui_." Gambit answers, showing me a brown leather wallet. He opens it and removes the cash, throwing the entire wallet and its contents into the grass. "Keep de cash an' throw de rest, dat's my motto."

"Where did you get that from?" I question, already regretting my choice of words. Where ever he came into contact with the wallet, I know that it's going to be stolen.

"Y'know de cop dat we nearly kidnapped?"

"Yes."

"Dat was his wallet." He shrugs and pockets the roll of bank notes. Oblivious to my shock, Remy swaggers ahead cockily whistling tunelessly. I have the sneaking suspicion that we are both going to be spending the remainder of our lives in a prison cell and the blame will be lying at the Cajun's feet.

* * *

"Um, this wasn't the kind of store I was talking about, Gambit."

"What's de matter wit' dis place?"

"It just screams sex." I reply nervously, glancing around at the over the hill customers and their full to bursting shopping carts. I think that we've stumbled into a sex mad community, full of geriatric, visually impaired sex addicts.

"Dis is a sex store _Chere_." Remy chuckles, grabbing me by the gloved hand and tugging me past an elderly gentlemen paying way too much attention to a jock strap. "An' y'said dat y'wanted t'buy somethin' for y'papa."

There is so much wrong with that sentence, I don't even know where to start. "I was thinking about sending Logan a postcard, not shipping him a sex toy." I don't even want to think about Logan having a sex life, its revolting... I'm going to spew, I swear I'm going to puke if I suffer from flashbacks, I have his memories remember.

"Stop bein' so negative. Dey have postcards, look." He tells me, licking his lips and eyeing the erotic pictures with growing pleasure. Is it understandable to feel jealous over a barbie wannabe, with larger breasts then Pamela Anderson?

"I can't send that to the mansion!" I harshly scold the drooling mutant, picking up a postcard and waving it in front of his nose. "The slut is naked, as in zero clothes!"

"Remy knows, an' thinks dat Wolverine would appreciate de sentiment."

I hate to admit this but Gambit's right, up to a point. I scour the depths of the pornographic American postcard collection and scratch my head. "They're all blond."

"He don't seem de picky type _Chere_." Remy sighs, leaning against the counter and yawning over dramatically.

"You don't know Logan." I snap testily. "This is a matter of life and death. If I choose the wrong postcard, anything can happen. I mean how would you feel in his shoes?"

"I'd be happy dat I have my life back, an' I would definitely do somthin' about de hair. Y'can't get laid when y'look like you've stuck your finger in a plug socket."

"There's nothing wrong with his hair Remy. It just sits like that, he doesn't walk around fingering plug sockets." I blush furiously, as the 'F' words resounds in my mind.

Ignoring my flushed face, I find a postcard and grin mischievously to myself, finally a two bit hooker that has heard of underwear. "I need a red pen."

* * *

"There, finished. What do you think?"

Remy wrinkles his brow and applauds my modest artistic skills. "Y'changed de _filles_ hair colour."

"Yep, say hello to Mrs. Wolverine." I giggle, studying my handiwork. Logan would never be taken by a blond, so I colored the slut's hair red, just for kicks. I really am going to pay for this but there's a part of me that finds it all too hilarious.

"Whatever floats de Wolverine's boat." He snorts, escorting me from the premises with a hand on my lower back.

"Remy, can't you go anywhere without stealing?"

"Non." Gambit whispers in my ear. "Y'know y'like it, it's one of my quirks dat women love."

"Hey, you two! Stop right there!" A female, raven haired, big bosomed sales assistant yells.

"_Merde_, run!"

Why doesn't anything ever go right in my life? I can't decide if Remy has the worst luck in the world or if I'm not destined to become a master thief. I have a better chance of shacking up with Cesar Milan and blossoming into the most kick ass girlfriend, young mother and dog trainer this world has ever seen.


	14. Very Important Authors Note From A VIP

**_I'm usually not one for posting authors notes, I find them a nuisance. Especially when they appear in the middle of an unfinished story. But, having come to the conclusion that I have to be annoying at least once this week, I decided that this was a better idea then actually trying to message everyone. Which would have that just been a little too crazy even for me. _**

**_For those of you lovely people that actually like this story, don't worry I'm not about to call it quits. I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be re-writing each chapter and tweaking certain parts of the story. I've already over hauled the first chapter and I've re-posted it. Hopefully it flows a little better now. The only favour I need from you is a little feedback._**

_**If it hadn't have been for OrangeBean telling me off for leaving her/him hanging, I would have been downstairs right now watching the TV. Shame on you orangebean ;) LMFAO But, it did give me the sharp reminder that I needed, so thank you. **_

**_I'm pledging my full undivided attention to this fic and I will be updating eventually. I just thought that I'd let you know that I'm not dead and I haven't given up on it._**

**_Thank you to everyone that has reviewed so far, _**

**_JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo _**


	15. Photo Booths, Frayed Tempers and Kisses

_**Thank you to everyone that has reviewed the previous chapters. Also, to those that have been patiently waited for this update and haven't threatened to hire a hit man LOL. Another quick thanks goes out to those that have added this to their favourites and the nameless lurkers out there.**_

_**The story has now been rewritten, edited and throughly been kicked into shape. It has also benefited from a bottle or ten of Vodka, a special viewing of the X-men films and the author has spent many hours being distracted by Hugh Jackman pictures. So, please enjoy.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Photo Booths, Frayed Tempers and The First Kiss**

"I don't understand how you can be the prince of thieves when you always get caught." I grumble whilst peeking out from behind the tatty photo booth curtain. Thankfully we don't seem to have been followed to our hiding place in a run down drug store. We ran three blocks and I'm pretty exhausted right about now, sweaty too. Oh, and flushed but that might have more to do with who I'm standing close beside.

Gambit shifts behind me on the seat, twirling my stolen postcard in his hand. "Remy don' ever get caught."

Our knees brush together in the cramped space and I glance at him skeptically."Oh, I must have been mistaken then. I was sure that we'd spent most of last night in a cell."

"He be de finest thief dat ever lived." He replies jokingly, puffing out his chest and grinning like a maniac. "You're in de company of a legend _Chere_ an' don' y'forget it."

"The finest thief?" I snort with the shake of my head.

"_Oui, _Y'just be a distraction an' a _bonne _distraction at dat. I'm more used t'threats an' guns. Y'ever seen de second Austin Powers movie?"

"No. Our fearless leader didn't think it was wholly appropriate when we wanted to watch it on movie night."

"Remind me t'buy de DVD an' hand it to ol' shifty eyes for Christmas. De homme really needs t' loosen up." Remy tells me mischievously. A warm feeling settles in my stomach when I think about him staying until Christmas. The warmness develops into a burn when his eyes meet mine. "Gambit thought de_fille_ back dere was gonna start shootin' bullets out o'her enormous jugs."

The rather out of the blue comment causes me to simultaneously giggle and blush shamelessly. "And what was Remy thinking at the time?"

"Dat he'd be more den happy to watch de show as long as she don' shoot his way."

I seem to only blush, flush, sweat or giggle in his company and it's really starting to get me down. How does Jubilee control herself? She's always got someone chasing after her, yapping at her feet and asking her out on dates. I didn't even receive a single rose or a cheap box of candy last Valentine's day. I thought at least Bobby would have gotten me something but he seemed a little on edge whenever he was around me that week. It was as though someone had threatened him, but what do I know?

"How bout we take a picture for de family album?" Remy asks, throwing the postcard my way and beckoning me over to him. "Ain't got de change but I be de brightest, best an' hottest _homme _dat ever walked dis earth." He brushes his hand over a segment of the machine and charges it. "Y'might wanna sit on my lap.." The tiniest of explosions is heard and a panel falls to the floor with a clang, followed by a rush coins. "Cos' Remy's a gentlemen at heart an' deres nothin' more gentlemenly den offerin' a topless _fille_ his lap to sit in."

I blink at him and my arms instinctively cross over my chest. "I'm not taking my top off."

"Den this'll have to be a clean photo? Never done one of dem before..." He scratches his jaw and whips off his trench coat, then begins to peel off his shirt. How is it possible for him to have such amazing abs? I want to lick edibles off of his muscular, toned chest right here, right now."I'll strip den, don' wan' people thinkin' dat Gambit's gone soft."

* * *

"Logan, calm down. I've known Remy for an awfully long time and he's a gentlemen. He'll look after Rogue..."

"Storm, your definition of lookin' after is probably a hell of a lot different to his." I rumble, leaning against the wooden panelled walls of Xavier's study and glaring at everyone defiantly, daring them to tell me otherwise.

She purses her lips and shakes her head at the floor. "I just don't know what's gotten into him."

"Are we sure that he hasn't kidnapped her?" One Eye's voice squeaks, his hand going to his stomach while he whimpers like a whipped bitch.

That thought never even crossed my damn mind. No, Scooter's talking shit again, he stinks like it too. The kid I know wouldn't let anyone kidnap her Southern butt again, if I wasn't careful she'd even be able to take me out soon. Marie's more likely the one that went and kidnapped the Cajun, she's probably got him breaking into the Playboy mansion or some stupid shit like that.

Why the hell did she have a thing for those magazines? Maybe she got it from me the last time she drained my ass dry. Damn near killed me that time too... I'm kinda regretting not leavin' her on that roadside now. My life was simpler back in the day when there was just me and the fights to deal with.

Damn it, how do people with kids deal with this shit?

"Remy isn't a kidnapper." Storm tells the still groaning shitty excuse for a guy. Heh, her eyes even turned white, does she have a thing for the man whore?

I smell Jean's scent before she enters the room, she smells good for someone that shares a room with that dick. Makes me wanna throw her over my shoulder and take her in my bed, I could even show her what a real man inside her feels like. After I get the kid back, I might just do that, gotta kick _my_kid's ass first. Dammit, I've really gotta stop having these lovey-dovey thoughts. Wait a damn minute, did I just use the words lovey-dovey?

"Jubilee and Kitty haven't heard from Rogue." Red says, her eyes darting my way. Jesus, I hope she didn't just read my mind. How the hell am I gonna charm her into my bed if she thinks that I'm batting for the other team?

"We need to get Rogue back." The Professor announces, his English ass looking pretty ancient right now. Whys he so worried? He ain't the one that promised to look after her. Although he's got a point, that's probably the smartest thing he's said all year."I fear that her powers aren't quite stable at the moment."

My ears perk up and I push myself off the wall. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

His tired eyes gaze into mine and he sighs. "It wasn't her that ordered that drink at the diner Logan, it was the Eric in her mind."

Eric? He means Magneto, doesn't he? Why does he even call that piece of... "Are you sayin' the kid's losin her mind?"

"He's saying that the Rogue has possibly turned Rogue." Cyke replies, standing to his feet and clenching his teeth. Does he even have any idea how much he smells right now?

"That's not what he's saying Scott." Jean snaps, fixing the asshole with one of those dark looks that turns me on.

"Jean, I'm sorry I got arrested..." He traipses over to her and takes her hand in his sweaty palm. "But if Logan hadn't have hit that cop when he tried to stop the fight, I wouldn't currently have a criminal record."

That gets a raised eyebrow and a glare from me. "Don't go blamin' me One Eye. If you hadn't kicked off in the first place, the kid wouldn't be roamin' around with a horny, good for nothin' Cajun."

Now, it's Storm's turn to glare, mainly at me. "Remy's a good friend of mine, Logan."

What the hell that's supposed to mean, I dunno. I couldn't care less if he's her friend, what I do care about is the thought of her friends hands on... "I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch." I snarl, unsheathing a set of claws and growling for all I'm worth.

A rumble of thunder does little to kill the fury, it might hurt my damn ears but that's about it, Storm's gonna have to pull a big fucking rabbit outta the hat to scare me.

"This isn't getting us anywhere." Chuck comments over the damn fighting. "We need to..." Then he just stops, it pisses me off when people stop talking before they finish what they're saying. Does he think that we're all mind readers?

"Professor, are you okay?" That's Jeanie for you, she's always fussing over someone, I guess that's why she's a doctor.

Even my ass jumps when that yellow friend of the kid's bursts through the door. She damn near gives me a heart attack when she screeches something that I ain't even gonna attempt to understand. Maybe English isn't her first language?

"Can you repeat that Jubilee?" Scott asks her, that stick up his ass causing him to wince. Although it might just be those dog treats he's eaten. Guess his bowel movements are more regular than the rest of us chumps. He looks like he's just shit himself, the way he's walking.

"I said, Rogue and Gambit are on the Fox news. I can't believe she's the first one to have her mugshot taken, I always thought it would be Pyro."

Rogue and Gambit? Fox news? Mugshot? What the... ?

I gave her a ride, saved her ass, kept an eye on her and stopped her from doing anything stupid. All that weren't out of the goodness of my heart, I did it so that when she screwed up to the point where she's made the damn national news, I'd be able to kill her with my own bare hands.

* * *

"Did we really need to take fifty two photo's, Remy?" I drawl, shuffling the passport sized photos through my gloved hand and placing a pair of scissors on the beautifully carved side table.

"_Oui,_we've gotta send a few to de family _Chere. _It ain't fair leavin' dem in de dark."

Gambit carries on flicking through the channels, completely oblivious to my look of dread. "We're not sending these to anyone. You're shirtless in forty four of them and in the other eight, you're either pulling off your pants, trying to kiss my neck or your hand is a little to close to my chest."

We found a hotel to stay in for the night, it's a pretty fancy place. They even have nice smelling soap in our bathroom, fluffy bath towels and a mini bar the size of Jubilee's wardrobe. I've never been anywhere this posh before, it's even better than the mansion.

"Are y'tryin' to tell Remy dat he's a pervert?" He says, pouting like a five year old and jumping onto the double bed.

That's where this whole running -away- for-the- adventure-of-a-lifetime- thing starts to get a little complicated. The very well groomed guy at the desk told us that there were only two rooms available, the honeymoon suite (Which Remy really wanted, I had to put my foot down there) or a double room with en-suite shower facilities and an enormous jacuzzi tub on the balcony.

We have a balcony overlooking nothing, it's just a view of grass, trees and the limitless sky. Isn't it just exciting to be one with nature?

As the clock strikes nine o'clock at night, Gambit yawns and throws his arm around my shoulder. "Time for an early night, non?"

Shrugging his arm off of my body, I glance at the fifty two inch, plasma TV and then glare at him. "You can sleep in the jacuzzi or have you forgotten about my skin?"

"Gambit be scared of water, he needs somethin' to keep him afloat."

I don't miss his eyes staring squarely at my chest. "Will you..." My mouth snaps shut when I realize that my picture has just appeared on Fox news, what makes it even worse is that Gambit's is followed swiftly after with the words 'Deemed dangerous, do not approach.' I snatch the remote out of Remy's hand and turn the volume up.

He only snorts when the blonde, immaculately dressed and heavily botoxed to the eyeballs lady reads off the autocue;

"_Meet the new Bonnie and Cylde of the twenty first century, these are two vicious mutants with a score to settle and they certainly don't let anyone get in there way. They broke out of Surprising county's only jail late last night and left a trail of devastation in their wake."_

"Dat place was called Surprising County?" Remy says, resting his head on the pillows and smirking. "De only thing surprising about it was dat Gambit set foot in de dump."

I'm caught between crying, laughing or ringing up the news station and suing them for defamation of character. I've never heard of such slanderous remarks in all my life. What if the people back in Meridian see this? Shit, what if Logan sees it? He doesn't watch the news but what if someone else at the mansion watches it? Someone with half a brain and a big mouth?

"Remy?" I almost squeak, my finger nails digging into my palm. "Do you remember what you said about me touching you?"

"_Oui, _I never forget about a bit of touchin' ."

What if he was right about me touching him? Would the Professor not be able to find us? It was worth a shot and I really have nothing to lose. I've already lost my freedom, possibly my life too.

"Don't read anything into this, I don't know you all to well and I'm only doing this to save both our asses until I can think of a plan."

His smirk only grows as wide as the Cheshire cats smile in _Alice in Wonderland _when my face draws closer to his. My lips brush against his cheek and a bare hand captures my face, before I know it our tongues are hungrily exploring each others mouths.

When I start to think that this is getting a little too out of hand, I break the contact and Remy's unconscious body falls into my arms, his head resting on my chest. I get the distinct inkling that he's had this planned all along.

I lay him on the covers and try desperately not to read his thoughts. It would be nosey if I did and the Professor always said...

"Shit," I gasp, when I spot my right hand glove starting to glow. "Oh no, stop. Please stop and listen to a Cajun."

Ripping off my glove, I throw it out onto the balcony and slam the doors closed, sighing in relief.

I kissed Remy, I kissed the prince of thieves, I kissed Gambit. In fact I kissed someone and put them into a coma again. Oh God, I hope he doesn't take three months to wake up! How the hell would I afford the hotel bill?

A sharp knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I gulp. There's no need to panic, I'm sure it's not... Another heavy knock, my feet are moving, I'm opening the door and possibly experiencing an out of body experience.

My hands are sweating, my heart is pounding and I think I'm going to pass out. "_Merde," _I declare, with a wash of a Cajun accent, pointing my bare finger at the figure outside my door. "You be Cesar Milan!"


	16. Twitches, Hero Worship and Alliances

_**I know, I know, it's been an awful long time since I last updated and I really don't have an excuse. So, I'll just shut up now and thank the lovely people that reviewed the last chapter and made me grin like a maniac... Good for you!**_

_**The J Lover, Currently Incognito, sakuraxbest (Remy's eyes only change if he uses his powers), desy, starlight, SmoochyNose (Love the name), Anonymous, Cherish, Cybernetic Mango, Princesakarlita411, ThelittleRogue, 2010kid and Raven34link.**_

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**Twitches, Hero Worship and Alliances**

I can't watch that damn TV any longer without impaling the screen with my claws, smashing it to bits and force feeding every piece to that Cajun man Whore. They've replayed the news headlines five times and my body twitches more with each play, I'd better not have developed a nervous twitch over this crap, or Marie's really in for it.

No, I take that back, I can't be dealing with his crap. I'm washing my hands of the girl and she's officially on her own. Let's see how she gets her ass out of this mess without my help and with any luck she'll be doing ten to fifteen years hard time.

Lighting another cigar, I kick my legs back and stare out into the grounds. This veranda has its uses I suppose and this chair is pretty comfy, I just hope it doesn't collapse under my weight.

I shift in the chair, it creaks again and I wonder how much I weigh. That's another one of those batting for the other team thoughts and I'm starting to question my sanity. I guess it's time for another beer and it's a good thing I brought the six pack out here with me, One Eye's been sniffing around for a drink all night.

"I can smell you Jean." I grumble, snapping the cap off yet another bottle with my teeth. You would think that of all people, telepaths would know when assholes like me want to brood alone.

"I've been on the receiving end of your leave me alone vibes before, Logan." She says with a beautiful smile. Ever since I moved into this place I've been using words like 'beautiful' and it's really pissing me off. Where have the days gone when I could pick up hookers with a single wink and forge ahead without the need for words. "The Professor's gone to use Cerebro again."

"I don't care."

"You've given up on her, haven't you?"

Great, just great. This is just what I need, a God damn lecture from the broad that Cyclops is servicing. "What if I have? I don't remember this bein' any of your business."

She sighs and sits beside me in a free chair. "You have every right to be angry with Rogue, but that doesn't give you the right to shut down emotionally and cut her out of your life."

Me, emotional? I don't have any emotion, that's what makes me the Wolverine. I don't need anyone or anything, I'm better off alone. It's easier without relationships, especially the platonic ones that involve ungrateful brats that just disappear off the face of the earth while you try and prevent Cyke's ass from getting kicked.

"Are you ignoring me now?"

"If I say yeah, you gonna leave me in peace?"

Jean smiles slightly and glances down at my beer. "Aren't you going to offer me one?"

I arch an eyebrow and watch her face closely. I've got to admit it's very symmetrical, her face that is… I haven't had the pleasure of seeing what's underneath her shirt yet, but I bet those beauties are worth their weight in gold. "You can tell One Eye if he wants a beer he can haul his stinkin' ass down the store."

She looks stunned for a moment and quickly regains her composure. "For someone without any mind reading abilities you put most telepaths to shame."

We fall into a comfortable silence in the moonlight and I feel oddly at ease with her. I've got ample time to talk her into my bed and I bet it won't take much talking either. I mean, look at what she's putting up with now and there's no damn need for it… She's hot and he's a wuss with an iffy stomach, a dodgy haircut and the biggest geek syndrome I've ever come across. There's plenty of time for that though, I've got a hell of a lot to think about.

I'm probably just acting like a grade A dick when it comes to the kid. It's possible that the Professor's right and she's having difficulties with her mutation. If that's the case, then why didn't she come to me? That's what I'm here for, I make sure she toes the line and keep her from harm. I thought she trusted me, but I guess I was wrong.

"This is my fault, ain't it?" I sigh, tightening my grip around the bottle and glaring at the ground.

"She's just had her head turned, it's perfectly normal." Jean replies comfortingly, patting my knee in reassurance. "I'm not condoning her behaviour, Logan. Rogue's young and her hormones..."

"I knew it!"

"What?"

"It's those damn hormones," I grumble, trying not to pay too much attention to the hand still resting on my thigh. A few months ago this would have been the highlight of my week. Now all I want to do is track down the girl that first trusted me and read her the riot act. "She wanted a damn adventure and I didn't listen to her. So now the hormones have made the decision and she's shacked up with a randy Cajun! Thank God I use protection, What use would I be as a parent?"

"You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself." She announces soothingly and making me slightly giddy. That could just be the beer... No, it takes a boat load of beer to get me shit-faced and I feel like readjusting my jeans. I'm going to have to change my God damn pants if she continues patting me on the leg. "You have no idea how much Rogue has benefited from your love, haven't you noticed the change?"

I'm too busy contemplating the word love to answer her. I still maintain the fact that in no way, shape or form does the Wolverine love. I might tolerate certain people in my life but I don't... Damn it all to hell, why am I just sitting here? I should be out there searching for her and dragging her ungrateful ass back by her striped hair, not sitting here feeling sorry for myself.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Where do you think? I'm goin' to go search for her." I snap, walking away with a fleeting look over my shoulder and gulping down the remainder of my beer for the road.

Jean stands to her feet and appears more then pleased with my sudden change in mood. She should give herself a pat on the… No, don't go there, or you'll never leave. That red head can sure manipulate any man she meets, is must be compulsory for all women to learn to twist guys around their little fingers from an early age. "What are you going to do when you find her?"

Stopping for a moment, I chuck my empty bottle in a hedge (I really don't give two shit's about littering) and catch sight of my tags hanging loosely from around my neck. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I eventually find the girl, I know that I will though, I'll find her. "That's gonna be up to her, ain't it."

* * *

Oh my God, is this a dream, am I dead, is this heaven, am I high or maybe I'm drunk?

All those could be a possibility, I did French kiss Remy LeBeau; Sex God of the Universe. Don't even ask me where that just came from because I have no idea. His thoughts and feelings are pretty hard to handle in my head, they're different to others. More perverted, yeah, but they keep knocking down the walls of my mind and dancing on them. Yes, dancing… Naked dancing.

He has such a dirty mind, anything I think or say, and he just twists it!

I close my eyes and count to thirty, slapping my cheeks a few times and giggling. Okay, I have officially lost the plot and Cesar Millan is still standing there in the doorway of my hotel room, with a look of dread on his rugged face. I have a crush on Cesar, yikes, shh, don't make it too obvious.

Ushering him into the room, my eyes dart everywhere else but his face and… Am I jumping up and down on the spot squealing? Oh no, please don't do that, Marie, you're embarrassing yourself. "Say dat you'll give a Mississippi girl your signature" I utter faster then my lips can spit out the words, and frown when I detect the heavy Cajun accent I seem to have embraced. "I've got a pen here somewhere and I'd love it if you signed my…" My head begins to ache and I whimper, placing a hand to each side of my temple. "BREASTS! SIGN DE BREASTS!" The pain seems to vanish instantly and I blush at the man in front of me. He's very quiet, very very quiet. "I… I… I'm sorry, I suffer from Tourettes."

Cesar looks slightly uncomfortable as I kick the door closed and punch the unconscious Remy on the leg. "I heard an explosion and thought it came from in here." He says, gazing around the room and placing his hands in his jean pockets. "I thought someone might be hurt."

Oh, isn't that nice of him? I always knew that Cesar would be a great guy to get to know. People always tell others not to meet their heroes, but look at me now, in a hotel room with _The Dog Whisperer_ and he's asking me if I'm Okay.

"That was very sweet of you, Cesar. Can I call you Cesar, or would you prefer The Dog Whisperer?"

"No, no, no, Cesar's fine."

Did you hear the way he said 'No', it was so cute. I need his signature, now, right this second, I mean now. I won't let him leave until he signs my… "Glove, you really need to sign my glove. I mean, I love your show, I watch it all the time and I have this problem that I really wanted to ask you about."

I hand him a pen, how convenient is that, a pen just lying around? He smiles and leans over to sign the single glove that I'm still wearing. It's such a same that the other one went BOOM, because these were my favourite pair. "I have a Wolv… A wolf that has a few deep rooted problems. He has his good points, he's fully housetrained, will scare away intruders, can be affectionate and has very soft, shiny fur. But, he's dominant, growl's a lot and is a little too protective of me."

Cesar finishes signing my glove and hands me back the pen. "Your wolf needs boundaries, rules and limitations," He tells me seriously, scratching at his chin. "You also need to establish yourself as a pack leader, it's very important."

"I've tried that, but he won't have any of it."

"You need to change your behaviour before you can change the dog. You need calm-assertive energy, and then you can try to tackle the problems."

I nod my head in understanding and try not to squeal at the current scene. Cesar Millan is giving me one-on-one tips and I didn't even have to pay him, bribe him or torture them out of him. Not that I'd ever torture _The Dog Whisperer_, I'm not a bitch… And he's so short in real life… If he sat on my knee people would think he was my kid.

"How do you act when the dog is aggressive around others?" Cesar questions me, and I feel slightly on edge. I usually yell at Logan, try to drag him off said boy and then we get into an argument that I always end up losing.

"Well, I lose my temper with him." I admit a little shamefully. It's not like he's an actual dog, so I really need to snap out of this.

"Have you ever thought he's only reacting to your behaviour?"

"What do you mean?"

"If a member of the pack is unsure or nervous around another, then the dominant one will take it upon himself to deal with the problem."

I gasp as the realisation dawns on me and collapse on the foot of the bed. I always get nervous around the other students in case they touch my skin and Logan is the one that diffuses the situation by growling, and scaring the absolute crap out of people so they move out of my way. How can I have been so stupid? This was all my fault and I've been blaming my Wolverine for the problems, he was only trying to protect me. Oh boy, do I feel guilty now, I've treated him so badly and all he ever wanted to do was protect me…. Even if he had a funny way of showing it.

Cesar begins to walk to the door and he snaps me out of my thoughts. "I've got to go now." He glances over at Gambit and looks at me. "Is he okay?"

"Rem… MY HUSBAND… is fine, he's just drunk." I sigh into my hands, silently promising Gambit's psyche that I will murder his smirking face. "AN' TIRED, WE BEEN AT IT LIKE RABBITS!"

Why does he feel the need to make me shout these things out? That's the third time I've made poor Cesar jump in five minutes. I leap to my feet and stalk… No, follow him out of the door to his room. "There's one more thing that would really make my day, Mr. Millan." I gush, clapping my hands together and slowly but surely rocketing over that line that defines my craziness. "Please, please, please say your catchphrase, you know the 'I rehabilitate dogs, I train people, I am the dog whisperer'."

* * *

Jesus, this is quite the decision. I stand in the garage, arms crossed and arch an eyebrow at each mode of transport. There's the five bikes, the eight cars and they all do a thing for me, I mean feelings deep inside my gut.

I guess Summers must be able to detect when someone's hovering a little too close to his pride and joy, he's in here faster then I can say, "Jean, darlin', spread your legs and beg for it."

"What do you want?" I groan, suspiciously eyeing the bag he has in his hand.

"Jean thought you might want some company." He replies, unlocking a sporty looking black SUV and hopping inside. "We haven't got all night, Logan. The longer you take, the colder the trail goes."

I'm sure what that implies in layman's terms, is that the Professor, Jean and Storm didn't trust me to return Gumbo in exactly the same state that I found him in… They could have a point there.

The last thing I want to do is go on another road trip with that Dick, but two pairs of eyes might be better then one. And it could get interesting messing around with his head. These thoughts of double murder are starting to eat away at my fun side.

Snatching by duffle from the ground, I throw it over my shoulder and trudge over to the jeep, my left eye twitching all the damn way. "Fine, but I'm drivin'."

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_**Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the pictures or the postcard that they still have to send. There are still ways that Logan can see them without being at the mansion. And, it was so hard trying to write for Cesar Millan.**_

_**P.S. Before you all start to think that I really have lost more of my mind, I don't have a crush on The Dog Whisperer... Give me Hugh Jackman any day of the week. LOL **_

_**And the World Cup starts in days! I can't wait, it's England Vs USA on Saturday, people. Can anyone actually guess the score? I'll say 2-0 to England... :D **_


	17. Bladders, Bodies and Lies

**_Brand new chapter, Just been finished and my head hurts. That is what happens when I think too much, my brain rebels. All you need to know really is that yes, the ending is supposed to be THAT vague. I deliberately wrote it in simple terms because... Well because I wanted to. LOL. I will of course be going into more detail in the next chapter. Everything will be explained!_**

**_A HUGE thank you to the following people. And especially Muroun who reviewed this story yesterday and with that much needed poke, I sat down and wrote this today. I have had the first paragraph of this chapter saved on my computer since the last time I updated, and sometimes I just need somebody to wave a stick or cattle prod in my face. That or I receive a lovely review, then I read the rest of the reviews and I feel inspired. _**

_**So a thanks to: Raven, Mango, PrincesA, dirtylittleangel, Yak, desy, Scott has a pole up his ass, TheLittleRogue, My own little fanfic stalker who always has such nice things to say – The Reserved Reader, moonlove, Lady-Lyonnesse (Thanks for giving this story a try), Indigo (Wow, you reviewed every chapter. Thanks) and last but not least: Muroun who you need to thank for this chapter even existing. Lets just say she is the Godmother of chapter seventeen. LOL.**_

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**Bladders, Bodies and Lies**

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_Eight miles outside of Surprising County: Close to gutting the Pansy Ass. So close..._

"We're not stoppin' again." I growl, the vein in my forehead close to bursting and splattering the windscreen with blood. I'd rather decorate it with Scooter's blood and guts, but I need to channel this anger into further scenarios involving my claws and Gumbo's manhood.

"Logan, it's never a good idea to take a full bladder over it's third state line, it might just rupture." Scott whines, shifting in his seat and wiping the sweat from his brow. "We need to stop and find a restroom."

I snort, my eyes flickering from the road to his face. "Piss outta the window or in an empty bottle, I don't much care. Just pick one and man the hell up."

We've been on the road for a day, and about ready to drop by the pile of bricks that once stood and housed the criminals of Surprising County. Hell, I don't know what's more surprising to me; That I ain't gut the whimpering Pansy Ass like a fish. Yet. Or the girl whose Southern ass I'm in charge of would pull something like this knowing damn well how I'd act.

The day I first met the kid, she was shy, had been through some shit but it never crossed my mind once she got to know me, she'd change so dramatically. Jesus, I'm always telling her I'll never call her Rogue because it doesn't do her justice. Now I might have to reconsider a hell of a lot of things, not just what I call her.

I have no business being in her life. I'm an old, gruff, cage fighting son of a bitch that hates to talk, pussy foot around and put down roots. But I haven't just put down roots, nah, that ship has definitely sailed. I've gone and planted an entire God damn forest and got myself a kid without doing any of the fun stuff with her mother.

Not that I would have touched her mom with a ten foot barge pole, I've seen photo's and Hell would have to freeze over before I tapped that ass.

"Logan, I can only find beer bottles."

"What's your point, Scooter?" I demand with a heavy sigh, wishing I'd followed my instincts and left his ass at the last diner we stopped at.

He flips a button and the window unwinds. Me being a nosey bastard not withstanding, I glare straight ahead and will happily claw my eyes out of their sockets if I catch sight of what he's about to do. Nuh uh, the Wolverine don't swing that way. The only thing I swing is my claws and Gumbo's intestines around my head like a lasso. That'd be quite a way to catch the kid. She wouldn't forget that in a hurry.

I'm about to order him to haul his ass into the back seat to take a leak. You know, in case he takes in upon himself to wave it in my face, when I realise that he's about to commit the largest damn sin a man could.

"Damn it, One Eye." I grumble, snatching the bottle out of his hand and snapping the cap free with my teeth. "There's still beer in this one."

"I know," He replies simply, crossing his legs and frowning. "I was going to pour it out of the window. My well-being is more important then your beer, Wolverine."

"Don't count on it, Bub."

"I don't believe that for a second. You care about people, and if truth be told, you're not very good at hiding it either."

He receives a growl in response. I'm too busy nuzzling on my precious beer to bash his brains out against the door frame. It's a damn crying shame really, it might have helped me put everything into perspective.

There's isn't many people I care for and I can count them off on a set of claws. My own stupid ass, Jean's perfectly round ass. That would be same one I'm gonna lure into my bed with the cock of an eyebrow and a single growl. What can I say, I'm good at what I do. And, the Kid. Whose disobedient, equally stupid, out of control butt is going to be black and blue after I've finished with it.

I arch an eyebrow at Cyke's nagging as I finish off my beer and toss the empty bottle into his lap.

"Logan, you shouldn't drink _and _drive." He scolds, gesturing to my hands on the steering wheel and the rapidly disappearing town behind us. Heh, I drive like a badass on crack. There will be no oldies overtaking me, they'll be back there coughing up dust and choking on their false teeth. "No cop will believe the story about your healing factor. "

This is one of those times where I truly wish I could not only get drunk, but shitfaced. So hammered that I have no God damn idea where the hell I am or who I'm with. That sounds almost like my idea of Heaven. Though I'd need to throw a few hookers into the mix, a good steak house, too. Oh, and no chance of me reproducing any more brats.

"Just go get acquainted with the bottle." I grumble in response keeping my eyes ahead on the deserted road. "In the back seat, if ya don't mind."

I know the kid ain't technically mine, but she may as well be. Marie can be just as secretive, conniving, bad tempered and a royal pain in the ass to deal with as I am. That's where the problem lies. I don't want her to be acting out and running off. Nor do I want her skipping classes and blowing off her homework so she can follow her dumb little friends around and get into trouble.

She has a chance to make something of herself, get a decent job and not become an X-Man. I'd be five times dead before I let her dress up in one of those damn perverted leather suits and prance about on the field fighting every mutated asshole she comes into contact with. The girl can't even listen to the simplest of orders without talking back. She'd most likely become the first X-Man to get herself killed for shooting off her mouth.

Not that it would ever happen, 'cause it won't. I'll make damn sure of that. Nobody touches a hair on her head, makes her cry or hurts her in any way or they have me to answer to. But I can't always be there, which is why she is going to learn to listen to me. When I say no, I damn well mean no. And I couldn't care less if she doesn't like it.

Yeah, I screwed up grounding her ass and not listening when she told me she didn't order that drink. That don't give her the right to run away with a thieving, Gumbo loving man whore, try to kidnap a cop, get herself arrested, blow up a jail, then steal a car while every news station in the country flashes her mugshot, though.

"Logan, slow down will you. I can't go when I'm nervous. And your driving makes me nervous."

I don't bother glancing at the Pansy Ass in the rear view mirror. Do you think I'm sick in the head or something? See, even he can follow my orders and do as he's told. He's on the back seat with my beer bottle trying to take a piss. Not that I'd want the Kid to be acting like that, but I'd be grateful if she would do as she's told once in a while.

"Stop whinin' like a bitch, Summers."

As soon as I spit those growled words from my lips, a flash of some fancy blue lights captures my attention. That and a cops siren. There's a sheriffs car to my left and somebody seems hell bent on making Cyclops piss himself tonight because a flash light is shining through the back window.

I snort, I grumble, I curse and I pull over. If I get carted off to a cell again, Marie will never see the light of day because I'll be locking her in the mansions cellar and throwing away the damn key.

* * *

_In the hotel: So close to Cesar Millan, I can touch him. He smells like a Summers day... _

It took me over an hour to calm myself down because I met my hero last night. I met him, talked to him and now have thoughts in my mind about kidnapping him.

Don't get me wrong, I only want to talk to him some more. There is no sexual tension between Cesar and myself. Unresolved or otherwise.

You have no idea how much I just squealed inwardly at that. It was a real fan girl scream, too.

I hero worship Cesar Millan and the ground he walks his many dogs on. It's not love, lust or any other crazy passion that makes people act like love drunk fools, I just think he's amazing. That's the only reason I've been following him around all day.

It wasn't my intention for this to happen. I just felt like some fresh air early this morning, I stepped onto my balcony and there he was in the parking lot, pacing back and forth having a discussion on his cell phone.

Of course I couldn't hear what he was saying from where I was standing, so I made my way downstairs, through the lobby and out into the crisp morning air. The sun was shining down on me while I was hiding behind a bush and I couldn't help but smile.

I wasn't able to catch many words, only a jumbled answer of "Yes," "No," and "We will do it tonight." I guess he's not much of a talker unless he's in front of the camera or a crazed fan.

So that is how I spent my day. Crouching behind bushes, cars and clothes racks. I think he went shopping for his wife at one point, because he purchased a pair of beautifully delicate silk negligees. The type of sleep wear I would just die to own. At one point I even wished he was my husband, but that daydream didn't last longer then necessary. Actually it stopped when I thought I had lost him in the crowds, only for him to emerge again like a dog to a bone.

He must have been really hungry. I had to sit there with the same glass of water for two hours straight as he ate a chicken salad, a bread roll and four slices of Key Lime Pie. Then he talked to the waiter about how much cash he had in the bank.

I thought that was a little big headed of him, but who knows how I would act if I was a millionaire. I'm sure Cesar is a millionaire by now. He's famous and has the charisma needed for people to hand over their cash to him.

If I was rich, the first thing I would do is fly to Miami on a private jet, stay in the most expensive five star hotel and sip cocktails by the beach.

Nobody could tell me what to do if I was a millionaire. The hangers on and party people wouldn't care about my skin either. I would buy a mansion in the most exclusive area of Miami and throw parties every night.

That's enough dreaming for today, I'm back in the hotel now and loitering in the lobby. Cesar has just strolled into the dining room, he's standing by the bar and shaking people's hands. They're even buying him drinks and and congratulating him on his success.

I have my doubts that Remy is conscious yet. He would have been at the bar, too. Drinking whiskey and smoking a cigarette as he flirted with the pretty barmaid.

I'm feeling a little unsure of myself today, it might be because I French kissed a Swamp Rat last night and still have his cute little butt running around in my head. Or it might just be that I can only search through parts of his memories. He's a hard guy to read, even when he's in my mind.

The only memories I have access to are the recent ones. His arrival at the mansion, the flirtatious moments we shared, our small road trip he had planned from the start... As soon as he kissed my gloved hand. And most importantly the real reason he wanted to go to New Orleans.

Remy Entienne LeBeau wanted to visit Luc. He is the only dry cleaner that Gambit trusts with his coat.

All the trouble with the cops, all this so Remy can have his coat dry cleaned. If he wasn't already in a coma, I'd certainly be draining his ass. The stupid bastard. I would have helped him find a reputable dry cleaner in Westchester if he'd asked me to. It would have saved a lot of trouble.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?"

I'm leaning against the desk at reception, watching the back of Cesar's head as he mingles with the other guests. I wonder if people would buy me drinks and treat me with respect as The Wolverine Whisperer?

At least I finally discovered why Wolverine has the behaviour of a dog that has never been socialised properly. The simple answer is that he hasn't been socialised properly. His previous owners should be ashamed of themselves. I should be, too. He's only overprotective because he sees me as a weak, silly, little girl that needs protecting from the big, bad world.

"Ma'am, I said, can I help you?"

I snap my head to the side and stare at the smartly dressed man behind the desk. He's sitting behind a computer, wearing a blue blazer and a red and white striped tie. His dark brown hair is receding and I feel bad for him, he doesn't even look that much older then I am.

"Um, actually you can." I answer, digging into the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt and sliding the hastily written postcards over to him. "I haven't had the time to buy stamps for them and I was wondering..."

"They will be sent first thing tomorrow. First class, of course." He replies with a tightly controlled smile, one that I think is as fake as Pamela Anderson's breasts. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thanks. I'll just be going now."

"Are _you_ sure there is nothing I can _help_ you with?"

I had started to walk away, I wanted to check on Cesar and then Remy. But there was something I recognised in the man's voice, it sounded like desperation. My own voice takes that tone when Logan threatens to move us both to a cabin in Canada, in the middle of damn nowhere because he can't stand watching Jean and Scott together.

Of course he never admits that is the reason, he just growls about wanting to head North and do some cage fighting. Maybe stay there for a few months, even a year.

My eyes settle on the bar instead and I don't spot Cesar anywhere. Oh no, I've lost him again. That thought makes my heart sink and... What the...?

There's a pained moan behind me and I swing around just in time to watch the man, and his receding hairline take their last breath. I can't gaze away and I see so much pain and suffering in his eyes, I'm rooted to the spot. Even when I hear footsteps behind me and the mutant with the nails... Claws releases the now dead man and his blue blazer, I don't run. I'm too scared.

I know the mutant with the claws, the one that is smirking at me, I know him from somewhere but he looks different. His hair is shorter, maybe.

It's funny what goes through people's minds when they have Cesar Millan circling them one minute and Mystique the next. But for the record, I'm not only crying because I never actually met my hero and the single glove upstairs that I was going to frame is now dead to me. I'm crying because I just saw a man have his throat cut with a single claw. He bled to death in front of me and I couldn't... Didn't help him. But most of all, I'm crying because I want Logan. I just want Logan.

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**Please let me know what you're thinking. I do live for reviews... Until the day I manage to kidnap Hugh Jackman, that is. When that happens we will run away and nobody will hear from us ever again :P **


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